ROBERT  CAVELIER 


[i] 
UNIT.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


ON  THE  ROCK  OF  QUEBEC 

:  Far  away,  through  these  forests  and  across  these  cataracts,  I 

believe  with  you  there  lies  a  little  Kingdom  of  Content, 

where  you  and  I  nill  one  day  reign."      [p.  86  ] 


ROBERT 
CAVE LIE  R 

The  Romance  of  the  Sieur  de  La  Salle 

and  His  Discovery  of  the 

Mississippi  River 

BY 

WILLIAM  DANA  ORCUTT 

ILLUSTRATED  BY  CHARLOTTE  WEBER 


CHICAGO 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO. 
MCMIIII 


Copyright*  1904, 
BY  A.  C.  MCCLURG  &  Co. 

Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 
All  Kighta  Reserved 


Published  April  9, 1904 


THE   UNIVERSITY   PRESS,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.S.A. 


[iv] 


To  my  Wife 

Louie  Thompson  Orcutt 
In  Token  of  Comradeship 


[v] 


21317B7 


PAGE 
FOREWORD xi 

CHAPTER  I 

A  Novice  Challenges  the  Holy  Order  of  Jesus     ....         3 

CHAPTER  II 

The  Novice  Becomes  a  Priest  without  a  Change  of  Heart       16 

CHAPTER  III 

The  Assumed  Priest  Becomes  a  Fugitive  upon  Strange  Seas       30 

CHAPTER  IV 

The  Birth  of  a  Mystical  City 42 

CHAPTER  V 

The  Hero  Becomes  an  Explorer '    .  60 

CHAPTER  VI 

The  Hero  Contents  Himself  with  Haifa  Loaf  ....       82 

CHAPTER  VII 

An  Attempt  is  Made  to  Mix  Oil  and  Water 93 

CHAPTER  VIII 

The  Heroine  Discovers  an  Ally 120 

CHAPTER  IX 

The  Explorer  Finds  not  That  for  which  He  Seeks   .     .     .      128 

CHAPTER  X 

The  Hero  Meets  a  Great  King 145 

"     [vii] 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  XI  PAGE 

The  Sieur  de  La  Salle  Finds  a  Rare  Gem  in  a  False  Setting     164- 

CHAPTER  XII 

The  Power  Behind  the  Throne 180 

CHAPTER  XIII 

The  Great  King  Accepts  the  Judgment  of  the  Church   .     .     197 

CHAPTER  XIV 

Fate  Proves  Itself  more  Potent  than  Strategy      ....     209 

CHAPTER  XV 

A  Fair  Maid  Returns  to  New  France 222 

CHAPTER  XVI 

The  Sieur  de  La  Salle  unexpectedly  Resumes  his  Explora- 
tions   237 

CHAPTER  XVII 

The  Explorer  Discovers  a  Great  River  and  Satisfies  his 

Ambition 251 

CHAPTER  XVIII 

The  Priest  Throws  off  his  Cassock 264 

CHAPTER  XIX 

The  Savages  Foil  a  Greater  Savage      .     .....     .283 

CHAPTER  XX 

The  Priest  Becomes  the  Supplicant  and  the  Explorer  Claims 

His  Own 299 

EPILOGUE  .  311 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


ON  THE  ROCK  OF  QUEBEC.     Frontispiece 

"  Far  away,  through  these  forests  and  across  these  cataracts,  I 

believe  with  you  there  lies  a  little  Kingdom  of  Content,  where 

you  and  I  will  one  day  reign."     [  p.  86  ] 

IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  NOVICES.     Facing  page  14 
"I  will  wrench  myself  free  in  spite  of  all,  just  so  sure  as  God 
lives  and  is  my  witness." 

ANNE  INTERRUPTS  THE  CONFERENCE.     Facing  page  66 

"  The  hood  of  her  cape  had  fallen  back,  permitting  the  wealth  of 

chestnut  hair,  in  its  disarranged  beauty,  to  form  a  frame  to 

the  fair  face  beneath." 

THE  FETE  AT  VERSAILLES.     Facing  page  166 
"  The  King  and  the  Queen  led  the  assemblage  down  the  broad 
walk  to  the  edge  of  the  grand  canal." 

Louis  XIV.  AND  MME.  DE  MAINTENON.     Facing  page  186 
"  They  call  the  popes  '  Your  Holiness,'  and  kings  '  Your  Majesty.' 
You,  Madame,  should  be  called  '  Your  Solidity.'  " 

THE  DISCOVERY  OF  THE  MISSISSIPPI.     Facing  page  262 
"  In  the  name  of  Louis  the  Great,  I  do  now  take  possession  of  this 
great  river  of  the  Mississippi." 

#**  Cover  Design  and  Chapter  Decorations  by 
Frederick  Garrison  Hall. 


[ix] 


FOREWORD 


HEN     SO     HIGH    AN 

authority  as  Sir  Robert  Wai- 
pole  exclaims :  "  Anything 
but  history,  for  history  must 
be  false,"  the  modern  author 

surely   has  the   privilege  of 

1WF=  *W     accepting  what    he    chooses 

and  of  discarding  that  portion  which  fits  not 
into  the  .weaving  of  his  plot ;  yet  so  much  re- 
mains to  us  of  authentic  knowledge  concerning 
the  life  and  labours  of  Robert  Cavelier  de  La 
Salle  that  there  is  little  temptation  to  depart 
from  the  most  reliable  authorities. 

Henri  de  Tonty  gives  us  a  vivid  account  of 
the  expedition  in  which  he  himself  took  a 
prominent  part ;  and  Nicolas  de  La  Salle, 
"little  Nicolas,"  as  he  is  known  in  history, 
contributes  a  narrative  which,  while  less  inter- 
esting, is  perhaps  no  less  reliable.  Parkman 
has  gathered  together  the  testimony  of  the 
various  witnesses  for  and  against  La  Salle's 

[xi] 


FOREWORD 

honours  in  such  a  manner  as  to  leave  little  for 
later  chroniclers  to  add,  and  to  him  is  due  an 
acknowledgment  of  gratitude  from  all  students 
in  the  fascinating  field  which  he  has  so  admi- 
rably covered. 

No  one,  however,  can  read  what  these  and 
others  have  written  of  La  Salle  without  becom- 
ing conscious  that  throughout  his  exciting  and 
adventurous  career  ran  a  thread  of  romance, 
intensified  by  the  persecution  of  the  Jesuits 
and  the  treachery  of  his  brother,  Father  Jean 
Cavelier.  In  this  story  the  author  has  en- 
deavoured to  pick  this  thread  apart  from  the 
others  which  make  up  the  warp  and  the  woof 
of  his  life,  adhering  closely  to  the  historical 
facts  in  such  portions  of  the  hero's  adventures 
as  have  been  retained,  but  throwing  the  light 
more  strongly  upon  the  characteristics  which 
raised  him  above  the  aspirations  of  a  mere 
adventurer. 

The  relations  of  Louis  XIV.  to  New  France 
form  an  important  part  in  the  history  of  his 
remarkable  reign,  and  the  influence  which 
Madame  de  Maintenon  wielded  over  the 
"  Sun  King "  changed  the  destinies  of  the 
world.  In  the  present  narrative  the  author 
has  considered  this  wonderful  woman  as  the 
tool  of  the  Jesuits  in  the  accomplishment  of 
their  defined  purpose,  but  absolutely  conscien- 

[xii] 


FOREWORD 

tious  in  what  she  believed  to   be   her  Divine 
mission. 

The  picture  of  Versailles  and  its  life  and 
that  of  the  women  of  the  French  Court  is 
drawn  largely  from  the  fascinating  contribu- 
tions of  Saint-Simon  and  Saint- Armand  upon 
these  subjects,  and  to  them  the  author  ac- 
knowledges his  obligation. 


iii  J 


ROBERT   CAVELIER 


[i] 


CHAPTER  I 


CHALLENGES 
THE  HOLY^ORDER 
JESUS 


•  HE  TAPERS  HAD  LONG 

been  snuffed  out  in  the  House 
of  the  Novices  in  Paris,  and 
the  professed  and  the  novice 
alike  had  thrown  their  erring 
bodies  upon  the  hard  floors 
of  the  cells  for  their  much- 
needed  rest,  save  those  who  had  penance  to 
perform  or  lost  sanctity  to  regain. 

Yet  not  all,  for  in  one  cell,  where  the  novice 
was  supposed  to  be  thankfully  accepting  his 
opportunity  to  relax  himself  from  the  ever- 
lasting vigils,  the  grey  light  of  morning,  just 
creeping  in  through  the  small  barred  window, 
betrayed  the  occupant  rapidly  pacing  up  and 
down  the  narrow  compass.  His  tall,  strong  fig- 
ure, even  through  the  novitiate  gown,  showed 
him  to  be  a  man  well  built  and  vigorous,  and 
his  face  displayed  determination  and  the  am- 
bition of  youth.  His  hands  were  clenched 
tightly  together  until  the  nails  almost  brought 
the  blood,  and  upon  his  forehead  stood  great 

[3] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

beads  of  perspiration,  though  the  cell  was  bitter 
cold.  Back  and  forth  he  strode,  now  with  his 
arms  behind  him,  now  waving  them  wildly  in 
the  air,  until  the  breaking  dawn  warned  him  of 
the  elapsing  time. 

Suddenly  he  stopped,  and  resting  his  shoulders 
against  the  cold  stones  looked  abstractedly  out 
of  the  window.  He  felt  the  cool  air  upon 
his  face,  and  it  seemed  to  calm  the  passion 
which  controlled  him.  He  pressed  his  fore- 
head with  both  his  hands,  and  then  seated  him- 
self upon  the  edge  of  a  rude  stool,  the  only 
furniture  the  cell  contained.  He  remained  sit- 
ting for  a  moment  as  if  in  meditation,  and  then 
the  pent-up  fury  burst  forth  again. 

"  I  cannot,  and  I  will  not,"  he  cried.  "  To 
live  a  lie  like  this  is  worse  than  death.  Why 
should  I  surrender  my  liberty,  renounce  my 
ambition,  and  relinquish  my  will  ?  And  for 
what  ?  To  be  a  novice,  a  scholastic,  a  co- 
adjutor, or  even  a  professed! 

"  Fool  that  I  was  ! "  he  went  on.  "  Or  even 
a  professed !  I  cannot  and  I  will  not !  I 
believed  that  smooth-tongued  tutor  when  he 
told  me  that  here  all  the  soul's  thirsts  and  crav- 
ings would  be  satisfied  more  fully  than  in  the 
carnal  world ;  that  here  the  spiritual  ambitions 
would  so  far  replace  the  temporal  that  thought 
of  all  outside  these  four  grey  walls  would  be 

[4] 


CHALLENGES    THE    JESUITS 

forgotten.  And  what  do  I  find  ?  That  those 
who  enter  here  become  human  automatons,  to 
be  adjusted  by  the  priests  with  minute  exact- 
ness to  the  execution  of  a  secret  and  a  terrible 
work,  whose  nature  they  are  forbidden  even 
to  surmise.  That  they  who  were  men  before, 
with  intellect,  soul,  reason,  and  will,  become  so 
paralysed  by  this  awful  influence,  so  broken  by 
this  mysterious  and  relentless  obedience,  that 
the  bodies  alone  retain  human  semblance. 
And  into  these  degraded  shells  is  infused  the 
'  spirit  of  the  Order,'  so  that  mechanically  they 
shall  perform  whatever  task  is  imposed  upon 
them,  ignorant  of  its  purpose,  powerless  to 
escape." 

With  a  final  sob  which  convulsed  his  powerful 
frame,  the  novice  threw  himself  upon  the  floor 
of  his  cell,  and  waited  for  the  hour  of  the  con- 
fessional. No  sleep  visited  those  roving  eyes, 
but  power  and  self-control  came  with  repose. 
When  he  rose,  all  signs  of  the  conflict  had 
passed,  and  nothing  remained  in  his  face  save 
a  determination  which  was  too  pronounced  to 
be  mistaken. 

In  spite  of  the  opposition  of  the  Huguenots 
and  the  Jansenists,  in  spite  of  the  persecution 
of  the  government,  and  in  spite  of  the  brilliant 
but  merciless  raillery  of  Pascal,  the  Society  of 

[5] 


ROBERT   CAVELIER 

Jesus,  composed  of  the  followers  of  Loyola, 
had  gained  a  foothold  in  France,  and  had  estab- 
lished its  House  of  the  Novices  in  Paris.  Oppo- 
sition seemed  to  be  the  food  upon  which  the 
new-born  prodigy  thrived  best,  and  the  middle 
of  the  seventeenth  century  found  it,  though 
yet  in  swaddling  clothes,  full  of  strength  and 
tenacity.  The  opportunity  offered  to  its  vo- 
taries to  become  early  martyrs  proved  irresist- 
ible to  the  enthusiastic  casuists,  who  embraced 
its  tenets  with  a  steadfastness  and  a  devotion 
which  brightened  in  the  glare  of  the  stake  and 
the  agonies  of  the  torture-chamber. 

By  1666  the  antagonism  of  the  government 
to  the  sect  was  reduced  to  a  forfeiture  of  in- 
heritance, and  the  House  of  the  Novices  at 
Paris  had  received  into  its  faith  many  of  the 
sons  of  wealthy  and  prominent  families,  who 
sought  refuge  from  the  world's  turmoil  and 
sin.  The  Jesuits  had  not  scattered  themselves 
throughout  the  country  in  the  capacity  of  tutors 
for  naught,  and  the  seeds  so  carefully  planted 
between  the  leaves  of  the  instruction  books 
were  beginning  to  bear  fruit.  The  enthusiasm 
of  the  younger  devotees  exceeded,  if  possible, 
that  of  their  elders,  and  the  fathers  offered 
the  marvelous  zeal  displayed  by  the  novices 
as  further  evidence  of  the  divine  sanction  to 
their  labours. 

[6] 


CHALLENGES    THE    JESUITS 

The  novice  descended  to  the  chapel,  as  the 
matin  bell  struck,  and  ranged  himself  with  the 
others  behind  the  scholastics.  He  seemed  un- 
conscious of  those  around  him,  and  was  im- 
patient for  the  services  to  conclude.  As  the 
solemn  procession  passed  out  from  the  chapel, 
he  fell  behind,  and,  bowing  his  head  upon  his 
breast,  astonished  the  Father  Superior  by  bar- 
ring the  exit. 

"  What  means  this  interruption  ? "  said  the 
priest,  sternly.  "  Have  you  a  sin  too  grievous 
for  the  public  confessional  that  you  seek  me 
thus  abruptly  ? " 

"  A  sin,  yet  not  a  sin,  my  father,"  proudly 
responded  the  novice.  "A  sin  if  I  stay  on 
here,  —  a  living  lie,  when  all  my  hopes  and 
thoughts  are  far  beyond ;  and  not  a  sin  that  I 
confess  it  now,  and  ask  to  be  absolved  of  all  my 
vows,  that  I  may  go  out  once  more  into  that 
world  which  is  my  world,  and  into  that  life 
which  is  my  life." 

The  father  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Even 
in  the  dim  light  of  the  chapel  the  novice  could 
see  the  convulsive  twitching  of  his  features,  as 
he  struggled  to  hold  back  the  storm  which  the 
younger  man  knew  was  about  to  break. 

"  What  madness  is  this,  my  son  ? "  the  old 
man  finally  said.  "  What  evil  spirit  has  pos- 
sessed you  that  you  dare  to  suggest  breaking 

m 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

your  sacred  vows,  and  to  address  your  Father 
Superior  with  such  disrespect  ?  " 

"This  is  no  madness,  father,"  replied  the 
novice,  firmly.  "  My  vows  have  surely  lost  their 
sanctity  long  since,  or  my  will  would  not  call 
so  loudly  for  release  ;  nor  do  my  words  contain 
lack  of  respect  to  you  other  than  the  fact  of  my 
determination." 

The  father  realised  that  here  was  a  spirit 
which  perhaps  might  be  moulded,  but  never 
broken.  His  voice  assumed  a  kindlier  tone. 

"  My  son,  have  you  so  soon  forgotten  the 
example  which  the  life  of  the  saintly  Loyola 
has  given  us  ?  Do  you  not  remember  that  he, 
like  you,  was  proud  and  worldly,  until  God,  in 
His  infinite  mercy,  caused  him  to  be  wounded 
in  the  breach  of  Pampeluna  ?  Have  you  for- 
gotten the  weeks  of  physical  and  mental  suf- 
fering which  followed,  until,  in  the  cave  of 
Mauresa,  the  mysteries  of  Heaven  were  re- 
vealed to  him  ?  Think  of  the  joy  with  which 
he  passed  from  the  agonies  of  death  to  the 
transports  of  life,  in  which  he  devoted  himself 
to  his  new  calling.  He  was  still  a  soldier,  my 
son,  but  the  battle  he  waged  was  for  souls,  and 
not  for  blood.  In  founding  this  society  of  ours, 
think  you  that  Loyola  sought  merely  to  create 
a  company  of  monks  who  should  aspire  to  reach 
Heaven  through  penance,  prayer,  and  medita- 

[8] 


CHALLENGES    THE    JESUITS 

tion  ?  Nay,  rather  to  organise  a  powerful  army 
of  might  and  zeal  to  subdue  the  world  to  the 
dominion  of  those  truths  which  had  been 
revealed  to  him.  Is  this  the  inactive,  monoto- 
nous existence  which  causes  you  to  long  for 
the  old  life,  without  purpose,  and  filled  with 
pitfalls  ? " 

"  Ah,  my  father,  how  plausible  it  sounds  as 
you  speak  it !  "  replied  the  novice  ;  "  it  was  thus 
that  my  old  tutor  talked  when  he  persuaded 
me  to  give  up  my  freedom.  But  he,  and  you 
too,  veil  right  skilfully  the  most  important  part 
of  all  your  tenets.  You  do  not  tell  me,  in  recit- 
ing the  story  of  Loyola,  that  his  dying  words 
were  of  such  terrible  import,  —  *  Let  each  mem- 
ber of  the  Order  be  in  the  hands  of  his  superiors 
but  as  a  corpse.'  I  did  not  know  this  until 
recently  ;  I  did  not  realise  how  definite  was  the 
attempt  to  destroy  my  individuality.  You 
have  sought  to  stimulate  in  me,  a  novice,  all 
those  energies  which  would  make  me  a  power- 
ful instrument  in  the  great  purpose  of  your 
Order,  yet  you  would  rob  me  of  volition.  You 
have  endeavoured  to  excite  my  enthusiasm  to  its 
intensest  pitch  only  that  you  might  command 
me,  in  the  name  of  religion,  to  yield  absolutely 
my  intellect  and  will  in  slavish  abnegation  to 
you,  the  Father  Superior,  whom  I  must  recog- 
nise as  God's  representative  on  earth." 

[9] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

"  Nay,  nay,  my  son,"  interrupted  the  Superior, 
hastily  ;  "  this  sacrifice  of  intellect  and  will  is 
not  to  me,  but  to  your  Maker,  —  and  the  more 
complete  the  resignation  the  more  glorifying  to 
the  individual." 

"  A  mere  differing  in  the  words,  as  you  well 
know,  father,"  replied  the  novice.  "You  will 
find  no  difficulty  in  forcing  the  wills  of  the  other 
novices,  who  have  come  to  you  at  an  earlier 
age  than  I,  to  be  subservient  to  yours,  but  at 
twenty-three  years  of  age  one's  reason  is  not 
so  easily  overthrown.  When  I  was  persuaded 
to  enter  here  I  came  with  no  little  enthu- 
siasm, thanks  to  the  zealousness  of  the  tutor 
whom  my  brother  placed  over  me.  I  was  ready 
to  accept  the  life  for  which  I  was  in  part  pre- 
pared ;  but  as  I  began  to  be  conscious  vaguely, 
rather  than  to  realise,  that  every  noble  thought, 
every  tie  of  affection,  every  generous  impulse, 
must  be  strangled  by  this  crushing  submission 
and  obedience,  I  felt  such  a  chill  come  over 
my  heart  that  for  a  time  I  became  inert  and 
passive,  just  as  you  expected  me  to  be.  But 
then  followed  a  self-examination  which  brought 
me  to  a  full  realisation  of  the  hideous  truth. 
It  was  death,  a  living  death,  for  which  I  was 
preparing  myself,  instead  of  the  life  spiritual 
which  had  been  drawn  for  me  in  such  attractive 
form.  The  bandage  has  fallen  from  my  eyes, 

[10] 


CHALLENGES    THE    JESUITS 

father:  the  surroundings  have  become  hateful 
to  me,  and  I  ask  you  to  release  me  from  my 
vows." 

The  face  of  the  Father  Superior  betrayed 
more  clearly  than  he  would  have  wished  the 
importance  he  attached  to  this  interview.  Rob- 
ert Cavelier  came  from  such  a  prominent  family, 
and  his  conversion  had  been  considered  so  excel- 
lent an  example  to  sons  of  other  important 
families,  that  to  have  him  sever  his  connection 
with  the  Company  with  such  clear  ideas  of  the 
principles  of  the  Order,  would  be  a  serious 
misfortune. 

"  I  have  listened  patiently  to  your  childish 
conclusions,  my  son,"  said  the  priest  at  length, 
**  because  I  wished  to  learn  how  far  you  had 
wandered  from  the  truth.  Nothing  could  be 
more  unfair  than  for  you  to  leave  us  with  such 
erroneous  conceptions  of  our  purpose.  And 
have  you  forgotten  that  before  taking  your 
present  vows,  you  were  given  full  opportunity 
to  depart  if  you  so  elected  ?  Then  was  the  time 
to  leave  us,  my  son,  for  our  Order  refuses  to 
accept  any  save  those  who  come  freely  to  its 
protecting  arms.  Then  was  the  time,  —  not 
now,  when  the  day  approaches  which  shall 
make  of  you  a  worthy  instrument  in  the  hands 
of  the  Lord." 

"  It  is  even  as  you  say,  father,"  replied  Rob- 
[11] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

ert,  bitterly ;  "I  accepted  the  long  term  of 
solitude  and  trials  cheerfully,  believing  it  to  be 
my  duty.  At  the  end  of  this  period,  knowing 
me  to  be  utterly  exhausted  both  in  mind  and 
body,  you  told  me  that  I  was  free  to  rise  and 
go  forth  from  my  cell  if  I  desired.  Full  well 
you  knew  that  my  only  desire  at  that  moment 
was  that  merciful  death  might  free  me  from  my 
sufferings.  It  was  well  timed,  father,  but  the 
cleverness  of  it  did  not  escape  me.  When  my 
strength  returned,  and  I  realised  that  the  mo- 
ment had  passed  forever,  I  hated  you  and  the 
Order  the  more.  It  is  useless  for  us  to  argue. 
You  yourself  have  taught  me  that  power  is  at 
the  centre  and  not  at  the  circumference,  and  it 
is  at  the  centre  that  1  mean  to  be." 

The  voice  of  the  Father  Superior  trembled 
with  anger  and  apprehension  as  he  spoke. 

"Then  you  demand  of  me  a  release  from 
those  vows  which  bind  you  to  our  Order  ? " 

"  I  do." 

"You  are  willing  yourself  to  break  those 
solemn  covenants  which  you  have  made  with 
your  Creator  ? " 

"  I  am  willing  to  break  such  covenants  as  I 
have  made  with  you  under  misapprehension, 
thinking  them  to  be  with  my  Creator." 

"  Do  you  understand  fully  that  while  the 
Order  may  release  you,  you  are  quite  powerless 

[12] 


CHALLENGES    THE    JESUITS 

to  release  yourself  ? "  asked  the  priest,  ignoring 
the  distinction  Robert  had  made. 

"  I  understand  that  I  have  already  released 
myself,  father,  by  the  position  which  I  have 
taken.  I  appreciate  the  importance  of  an  oath, 
and  that  is  why  I  come  to  you  and  ask  my  free- 
dom ;  but  should  you  refuse  to  grant  my  re- 
quest, it  would  make  no  difference.  No  power 
on  earth  can  keep  me  here,  and  it  is  useless  to 
attempt  it." 

"  Listen,  my  son,"  said  the  priest,  thoroughly 
exasperated  ;  "  if  you  were  to  leave  this  house 
without  my  permission  you  would  leave  it  as  a 
renegade  brother  of  our  Order,  and  with  our 
curse  upon  your  head.  Vows  taken  with  us, 
my  son,  are  not  so  lightly  cast  aside.  And  if 
you  do  go  from  here,  whither  would  you  turn  ? 
From  your  family  inheritance  the  State  has  al- 
ready barred  you  since  you  entered  our  doors. 
Without  this,  what  could  you  hope  to  do  ? 
And  no  matter  where  you  might  go,  or  whither 
you  might  turn,  you  would  find  us  there  against 
you.  Before  you  try  this  hazardous  experiment, 
my  son,  it  will  be  well  for  you  to  consider  the 
matter  carefully  ;  and  in  order  that  the  other 
novices  may  not  be  contaminated,  I  shall  place 
you  in  solitary  confinement,  at  least  until  your 
brother  Jean  may  be  summoned.  Perhaps  he 
may  bring  you  to  your  senses." 

[13] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

"  It  is  indeed  fitting  that  my  brother  should 
be  present  at  the  final  act  of  the  tragedy  which 
he  himself  has  forced  upon  me,"  replied  Robert, 
bitterly.  "  Place  me  in  solitary  confinement  if 
you  will, — I  admit  your  power;  but  understand 
well  that  not  even  you,  nor  Jean,  nor  stronger 
walls  than  these  of  this  prison-house,  can  keep 
me  long.  I  will  wrench  myself  free  in  spite  of 
all,  just  so  sure  as  God  lives  and  is  my  witness!" 

"  Take  not  the  sacred  name  of  God  in 
your  useless  boastings,"  commanded  the  priest, 
sternly.  "  Remove  those  vestments  of  the 
Church,  which  in  your  present  mood  you  but 
defile.  Prepare  yourself  for  the  punishment 
which  you  have  so  richly  merited,  and  remain 
in  solitary  confinement  until  your  brother  can 
be  summoned." 

Robert  hastened  to  comply,  and  quickly  tore 
off  the  black  cassock  which  enveloped  his  body, 
throwing  it,  with  his  beads,  to  the  chapel  floor. 
In  the  mean  time  the  Father  Superior  sum- 
moned Father  Anselm,  and  for  a  moment  be- 
fore breaking  the  silence  the  two  regarded  the 
angry  figure  facing  them. 

"  Father  Anselm,"  said  the  Father  Superior, 
severely,  "  into  your  keeping  I  give  this  rebel- 
lious novice,  who  has  suddenly  become  bereft 
of  all  sober  sense.  I  will  instruct  you  further 
concerning  him  at  a  later  hour." 

[14] 


s*w 


Enyravtd  by  John  Andnic  <t  Son 


IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  NOVICES 

"  I  will  wrench  myself  free  in  spite  of  all,  just  so  sure  as 
God  lives  and  is  my  witness." 


CHALLENGES    THE    JESUITS 

Father  Anselm  bowed,  and  motioned  to 
Robert  that  he  was  to  precede  him. 

"  I  accept  your  present  authority,"  said  the 
novice,  as  he  moved  to  obey  the  priest's  ges- 
ture ;  "  but  the  struggle  is  only  just  begun. 
You  fight  to  enslave  my  soul  and  I  to  free  it. 
To-day  you  are  the  master,  —  we  shall  see  what 
the  future  will  bring  forth." 

"  I  do  not  think  that  you  will  easily  leave  us, 
my  son,"  replied  the  Superior,  grimly ;  "  but  even 
so,  know  well  that  wherever  you  may  go,  be  it 
to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  this  Order 
will  search  you  out  to  your  destruction.  Re- 
member, you  yourself  have  thrown  the  gage 
to  earth :  no  man  can  challenge  the  mighty 
Society  of  Jesus  and  live ! " 

The  disgraced  novice  made  no  reply.  Slowly 
he  passed  out  of  the  chapel  and  mounted  the 
narrow  steps  which  his  guide  indicated. 


[15] 


CHAPTER II 

THENOVICE 
BECOMES  A-PRIEST 
ITHOUTACHANG 
OFHEARXSB 


T    REQUIRED    SOME 

little  time  for  Robert  to  real- 
ise his  new  conditions.  The 
cell  into  which  he  had  been 
thrust  was  no  smaller,  per- 
haps, than  the  one  to  which 
he  had  been  accustomed  dur- 
ing his  sojourn  in  the  House  of  the  Novices ; 
but  the  sudden  change  from  the  light  of  day  to 
the  darkness  of  night,  together  with  the  excite- 
ment through  which  he  had  just  passed,  pro- 
duced a  lethargy  which  he  found  difficult  to 
throw  off.  The  heavy  iron  door  closed  behind 
him,  and  the  great  key  turned  noisily  in  the 
lock ;  the  bar  clanged  as  it  fell  into  place,  - 
but  still  he  stood  motionless  in  the  centre  of 
the  ceU. 

Gradually  his  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the 
darkness,  and  the  outlines  of  the  cell  slowly 
shaped  themselves.  Strangely  enough,  the  first 
sensation  Robert  experienced  as  his  senses  grad- 
ually regained  their  strength  was  that  of  curi- 

[16] 


WITHOUT  A   CHANGE   OF   HEART 

osity.  The  novices  had  all  heard  of  the  horrors 
of  this  place  of  solitary  confinement,  but  his  was 
the  first  offence  during  the  two  years  gone  by 
which  had  been  so  flagrant  as  to  require  its 
dismal  services.  The  hazy  outlines  at  length 
became  more  definite,  and  Robert  could  dis- 
tinguish the  four  solid  stone  walls,  unbroken  by 
even  a  barred  window.  The  ceiling  of  the  cell 
was  also  of  stone,  narrow  apertures  admitting  a 
scanty  supply  of  air  but  no  light.  The  floor 
was  stone  and  supported  no  furniture  of  any 
kind. 

The  prisoner  moved  for  the  first  time,  groping 
to  find  even  a  handful  of  straw  for  his  bed,  but 
his  search  was  unavailing.  This  movement, 
however,  brought  him  to  himself.  He  straight- 
ened up  to  his  full  height ;  and  could  one  have 
seen  him  standing  thus  in  the  darkness,  he 
might  well  have  wondered  at  the  expression 
upon  his  face.  The  angry  lines  had  given  way, 
the  emotion  which  had  controlled  him  had  be- 
come calm,  and  in  spite  of  the  extremity  in 
which  he  now  found  himself,  he  was  possessed 
of  a  satisfaction  which  was  noticeably  evident. 
The  storm  is  ever  terrible  while  its  pent-up 
strength  increases,  little  by  little,  to  the  point 
when  it  must  break  its  bounds ;  the  moment 
of  the  breaking  is  fierce  and  uncontrollable,  but 
the  calm  which  follows  is  the  more  impressive 
2  [17] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

because  of  its  contrast.  Robert  had  at  last  freed 
his  mind  from  the  burden  which  had  made  him 
so  wretched,  and  even  though  his  physical  self 
was  in  restraint,  his  mental  strength,  Antaeus- 
like,  had  gained  from  his  seeming  defeat. 

"  At  last  I  am  my  own  master ! "  he  cried 
exultantly,  as  if  forgetful  of  the  walls  which 
confined  him ;  "at  last  I  am  a  man  and  not  a 
hypocrite !  A  prisoner  truly,  but  this  cannot 
endure  forever ;  and  the  father  knows  full  well 
that  naught  can  force  me  back  into  the  old 
life." 

Robert  stretched  out  his  arms  almost  implor- 
ingly as  the  reaction  came  upon  him  in  its  full 
force.  "  A  man  !  a  man  !  a  man  ! "  he  cried  in- 
coherently, "  at  last  a  man  1 "  His  strength 
failed,  and  he  sank  upon  the  stone  floor,  rest- 
ing his  head  upon  his  hands.  Little  by  little 
he  went  over  in  his  mind  the  events  of  the  past 
few  years,  which  seemed  like  a  nightmare  to  him. 
He  dimly  remembered  his  mother  and  her  de- 
votion to  him  while  she  lived.  He  remembered 
the  change  which  came  over  the  home  when  she 
went  out  of  it.  His  father,  always  reserved, 
had  become  even  more  self-absorbed  after  his 
wife's  death,  and  had  given  over  the  two  boys 
so  wholly  to  the  charge  of  their  tutor  that  they 
almost  forgot  his  existence.  Jean,  ten  years 
Robert's  senior,  eagerly  assimilated  the  Jesuitical 

[18] 


WITHOUT  A   CHANGE   OF   HEART 

teachings  of  the  clever  instructor,  and  left  home 
while  his  brother  was  still  a  child  to  pass  through 
the  training  necessary  to  become  a  priest.  The 
old-time  pain  came  back  to  Robert's  heart  as  he 
thought  of  the  cruel  neglect  which  both  father 
and  brother  had  bestowed  upon  him  since 
that  time.  Jean  had  always  possessed  that 
supremacy  over  Robert  which  so  often  exists 
where  several  years  separate  two  brothers.  When 
he  commanded  the  younger  boy,  therefore,  abso- 
lutely to  obey  the  urgings  of  his  tutor,  and  the 
father  had  remained  indifferent,  it  was  not 
strange  that  Robert's  somewhat  visionary  nature 
should  have  been  convinced  that  his  only  salva- 
tion lay  in  following  in  his  brother's  footsteps. 
As  it  was  in  doing  this  that  so  much  suffering 
had  come  to  him,  Robert  naturally  attributed 
a  large  portion  of  the  blame  to  Jean ;  and  the 
prospect  of  again  seeing  him,  and  under  the 
present  conditions,  was  most  distasteful. 

From  the  past  his  thoughts  overtook  the 
present  and  ran  on  to  the  future.  He  found 
himself  wondering  what  he  should  find  the  world 
like  after  having  been  apart  from  it  for  so  long 
a  time.  Still  musing  upon  this  uncertainty,  his 
tired  nerves  relaxed,  and  sleep  came  to  relieve 
the  heavy  tension.  How  long  he  slept  Robert 
could  not  estimate,  as  day  and  night  were  now 
the  same.  The  noise  of  the  great  key  being 

[19] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

thrust  into  the  lock  awoke  him  with  a  start, 
and  it  was  a  moment  before  he  could  collect  his 
thoughts  sufficiently  to  comprehend  the  situ- 
ation. During  that  moment  the  heavy  door 
swung  open,  and  Robert  recognised  the  forms 
of  two  priests  in  the  dim  light.  Father  Anselm 
deposited  upon  the  floor  the  meagre  supper 
intended  for  the  prisoner  and  then  withdrew ; 
but  the  Father  Superior  remained  behind,  his 
eye  wandering  about  in  the  darkness  to  locate 
the  disgraced  novice. 

"  Have  you  aught  to  say  to  me,"  he  asked, 
"  now  that  you  have  had  several  hours  in  which 
to  meditate  upon  the  effrontery  of  this  morn- 
ing ?  I  have  been  wondering  at  the  imagination 
which  could  have  carried  you  into  such  depths 
of  error." 

"  How  far  was  I  from  the  truth,  father  ? " 
replied  Robert,  boldly. 

"You  still  insist  upon  insulting  our  Order, 
my  son.  May  I  not  ask  you  upon  what  informa- 
tion you  base  your  most  unhappy  conclusions  ?  " 

Robert  hesitated  for  a  moment,  but  his  mind 
was  quickly  made  up.  He  spoke  with  terrify- 
ing directness  to  the  older  man  before  him. 

"  You  have  come  to  worm  out  of  me  the 
name  of  him  who  confirmed  the  convictions 
which  had  become  all  but  certainties  in  my 
heart.  Do  not  deny  it,  —  that  is  the  real  ques- 

[20] 


WITHOUT  A   CHANGE   OF   HEART 

tion  which  you  wish  to  ask.  But  contrary  to 
your  expectation,  I  will  answer  it,  since  it  can- 
not harm  him  now,  and  it  will  prove  to  you 
that  it  is  hopeless  to  endeavour  to  draw  me  back. 
Now  listen  well.  You  have  not  forgotten 
Father  Le  Fevre,  who  died  two  months  ago  ? 
His  was  the  only  true  and  noble  soul  I  have 
known  since  entering  this  accursed  place.  He 
had  been  induced  to  come  here  by  the  same 
false  hopes  which  were  later  held  out  to  me,  but 
he  did  not  awake  to  the  terrible  purpose  of  the 
Order  until  too  late.  Step  by  step  he  was 
drawn  into  the  net  until  you  all  supposed  that 
the  manhood  had  been  crushed  out  of  him,  and 
that  he  was  entirely  subservient  to  the  work 
assigned  to  him.  You  gave  him  the  truths  a 
little  too  soon,  father ;  had  you  but  waited 
another  month,  he  would  perhaps  have  been  in 
such  helpless  condition  that  the  full  realisation 
of  their  purport  would  not  have  come  to  him." 

"  Did  Father  Le  Fevre  tell  you  this  ?  "  asked 
the  Superior,  sternly. 

"  From  consternation,  his  feelings  turned  to 
mortal  regret,  which  finally  killed  him,"  contin- 
ued Robert,  not  heeding  the  interruption  ;  "  but 
before  he  died  we  had  several  conversations  to- 
gether. He  had  evidently  seen  in  me  those 
signs  of  discontent  which  had  escaped  my  other 
instructors,  and  to  me  he  disclosed  the  princi- 

[21] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

pies  of  this  Company  as  they  had  been  given  to 
him,  which  but  confirmed  the  convictions  I  had 
already  formed.  From  the  hour  of  his  death  I 
have  had  but  one  hope,  but  one  desire,  —  and 
that  I  expressed  to  you  this  morning.  Father 
Le  Fevre  did  what  he  could  to  undo  the  error 
of  his  life,  and  he  will  be  rewarded  for  it." 

"  He  will  be  everlastingly  damned  as  a  trai- 
tor," almost  shouted  the  Superior,  in  his  wrath. 
"  It  is  now  my  turn  to  speak,  my  son.  I  had 
hoped  to  find  that  the  statements  which  you 
made  this  morning  were  but  the  result  of  hallu- 
cination, and  that  we  could  show  you  the  error 
of  your  way.  Now,  however,  the  matter  has 
become  of  serious  moment.  What  you  have 
just  told  me  makes  it  absolutely  dangerous  for 
us  to  allow  you  to  depart,  and  your  own  words 
have  pronounced  your  sentence.  Out  of  respect 
to  your  brother,  who  is  a  true  son  of  Loyola, 
I  shall  await  his  arrival  before  making  my  final 
decision  ;  but  so  long  as  that  spirit  of  yours  re- 
mains untamed,  so  long  as  I  see  in  you  an 
enemy  to  our  cause,  you  will  remain  here  in 
this  cell.  I  advise  you,  my  son,  to  pray  God 
to  give  you  a  softer  and  a  more  receptive 
heart." 

The  old  man  abruptly  took  his  departure, 
and  Robert  was  again  left  alone  with  his  reflec- 
tions. It  was  evident  that  he  had  made  a  seri- 

[22] 


WITHOUT   A   CHANGE   OF   HEART 

ous  mistake  in  telling  the  Superior  of  Father 
Le  Fevre,  but  it  had  at  least  resulted  in  showing 
him  that  his  offence  was  considered  more  than 
a  breach  of  discipline ;  it  was  a  matter  which 
affected  the  well-being  of  the  Order  itself.  He 
realised  fully  now  that  he  could  regain  his 
liberty  only  by  escape,  and  in  spite  of  watchful 
supervision ;  and  Robert  spent  hour  after  hour 
endeavouring  to  devise  some  means  to  accom- 
plish it. 

The  hours  came  and  went,  marked  only  by 
the  two  daily  calls  made  by  Robert's  jailer. 
The  novice  had  not  abandoned  hope,  yet  thus 
far  no  plan  for  escape  suggested  itself  which 
gave  any  promise  of  success.  On  the  seventh 
day  the  prisoner  was  surprised  to  hear  the  noise 
of  the  unfastening  of  the  door  at  an  earlier  hour 
than  he  had  become  accustomed  to  look  for  it. 
He  had  forgotten  Jean  in  thinking  of  other 
matters,  and  the  interview  which  he  had  dreaded 
was  upon  him  before  he  realised  it. 

The  young  priest  entered  the  cell  with  delib- 
erate step,  pushing  to  the  heavy  door  behind 
him.  He  held  a  candle  above  his  head,  and 
quietly  advanced  to  his  brother's  side.  Even 
in  the  flickering  light,  the  resemblance  between 
the  two  men  was  striking.  The  priest  was  of 
the  same  height,  but  thinner ;  the  years  of 
ecclesiastical  associations  had  made  their  im- 

[23] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

press  upon  his  face;  the  expression  was  less 
frank  and  fearless  than  his  brother's,  but  the 
eyes,  the  nose,  the  mouth,  the  general  bearing, 
were  the  same. 

It  seemed  an  eternity  to  Robert  before  Jean 
broke  the  silence  ;  but  it  was  an  old  trick  of  the 
elder  brother  to  intimidate  the  younger  with 
his  eyes.  Robert  remembered  it  well.  But 
this  time  his  countenance  did  not  flinch  beneath 
the  piercing  glance,  and  Jean  was  evidently  ill 
pleased  by  his  brother's  self-possession.  At 
length  the  priest  spoke. 

"  I  have  no  greeting  for  you,  unhappy  boy, 
as  you  are  but  receiving  well-merited  punish- 
ment. Long  years  have  I  borne  with  you,  but 
now,  when  my  hope  of  seeing  you  clad  in  the 
garments  of  the  Church  is  almost  realised,  I  am 
summoned  to  witness  your  degradation  and  my 
own  humiliation.  Have  you  no  manhood  left, 
that  you  are  willing  to  place  this  last  cross  upon 
me?" 

"  It  is  because  there  is  some  manhood  left 
that  I  find  myself  in  this  uncomfortable  posi- 
tion, brother  Jean.  Did  the  Superior  tell  you 
the  nature  of  my  offence  ? " 

"  He  did ;  I  understand  that  you  have  been 
rebellious  and  insulting." 

"  Did  he  not  tell  you  that,  beyond  all  this,  I 
am  guilty  of  having  learned  too  fast,  and  that  I 

[24] 


WITHOUT  A  CHANGE   OF   HEART 

am  in  possession  of  facts  concerning  the  purpose 
of  this  Order  which  he  dare  not  have  known 
outside  this  house  ? " 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  you,  Robert !  He 
is  convinced  that  no  argument  will  avail  to 
force  you  to  forget  the  lying  tales  of  that  trai- 
torous priest,  and  you  yourself  must  pay  the 
penalty." 

"  He  is  quite  right,  Jean  ;  I  shall  never  forget 
nor  cease  to  be  grateful  for  what  Father  Le 
Fevre  revealed.  But  tell  me,  what  must  I  do 
to  regain  my  freedom  ?  I  am  ready  to  make  a 
trade  if  he  is." 

Jean  looked  keenly  at  his  brother  for  several 
moments  before  replying.  Then  he  threw  back 
his  head  and  laughed  derisively. 

"  It  is  a  waste  of  time  for  us  to  discuss  this, 
Robert.  The  Superior  sent  for  me,  thinking 
that  I  should  grieve  over  the  misfortune  which 
has  befallen  my  precious  brother.  On  the  con- 
trary, I  rejoice  in  it.  You  yourself  have  unwit- 
tingly played  into  my  hands,  and  now  you  are 
to  be  removed  from  my  path  forever  !  You 
ask  me  what  you  must  do  to  regain  your  free- 
dom, and  I  will  answer  you  with  utter  frankness, 
—  die,  my  brother,  die !  You  talk  of  making 
a  trade ;  do  you  suppose  for  one  moment  that 
the  Company  of  Jesus  will  take  any  chances 
of  having  you  tell  tales  which  would  bring  dis- 

[25] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

credit  upon  it  ?  Do  not  be  so  simple,  I  pray 
you  !  You  have  seen  the  light  of  day  for  the 
last  time,  my  brother,  and  I  have  now  only  to 
bid  you  an  affectionate  farewell." 

"  I  do  not  think  so,"  said  Robert,  quietly,  but 
taking  a  quick  step  to  Jean's  side  and  grasping 
him  suddenly  by  the  throat,  —  "I  do  not  think 
so !  If  that  is  the  game  we  are  to  play,  then  I 
will  make  the  first  move  ! " 

Quickly  he  forced  the  astonished  priest  to  the 
floor,  choking  back  the  cry  which  he  attempted 
to  utter.  Slowly  the  fingers  tightened  until  the 
resistance  ceased.  Robert  watched  his  brother 
closely,  and  loosened  his  grip  as  soon  as  it  be- 
came evident  that  the  priest  was  unconscious. 
Then  he  took  from  his  own  back  the  only 
garment  which  covered  it,  and  with  his  knee 
still  upon  his  brother's  chest,  he  tore  the  linen 
into  strips.  With  one  of  these  he  securely 
bound  his  prisoner's  mouth,  and  after  re- 
moving the  priest's  cassock,  he  employed  the 
remaining  strips  in  fastening  his  hands  and 
feet. 

By  this  time  Jean  had  regained  consciousness, 
and  his  eyes  glared  at  the  active  figure  before 
him,  which  was  engaged  in  putting  on  the 
black  cassock.  Thus  clothed,  Robert  took  the 
candle  from  the  floor,  and  let  the  light  fall  full 
upon  his  brother's  face. 

[26] 


WITHOUT   A   CHANGE   OF   HEART 

"  Good ! "  he  said,  addressing  the  prostrate 
priest ;  "  I  was  afraid  that  my  brotherly  caress 
had  perhaps  been  too  affectionate.  Look  at  me 
now,  brother  Jean :  you  shall  have  your  wish 
gratified.  You  behold  me  clad  in  the  garments 
of  the  Church !  We  shall  see  whether  the 
Superior  will  recognise  the  change  in  his 
Fathers  Cavelier ! " 

Robert  lost  no  time  in  leaving  the  cell,  care- 
fully locking  the  door  behind  him.  At  the 
foot  of  the  steps  he  extinguished  the  candle, 
trusting  to  the  dim  light  of  the  chapel  to 
aid  him  in  concealing  his  identity.  As  he 
slowly  passed  through  the  chapel,  the  Father 
Superior  advanced  from  the  sacristy  to  meet 
him. 

"  Are  you  now  convinced,  Father  Cavelier  ? 
Do  you  agree  with  me  that  your  brother  has 
become  a  dangerous  enemy  to  our  Order  ? " 

"  Entirely  so,  father,"  replied  Robert,  hand- 
ing him  the  great  key  and  assuming  a  saddened 
demeanour.  He  watched  the  Superior  closely 
to  note  any  recognition,  but  the  old  man  gave 
him  no  cause  for  uneasiness.  "  During  the  two 
years  which  have  elapsed  since  I  have  seen  him 
he  has  completely  changed.  I  could  not  have 
believed  such  treachery  possible." 

"  Do  you  think  that  he  will  likely  change  in 
his  behaviour  ? " 

[27] 


"  I  do  not  think  so,"  answered  Robert,  with 
greater  sincerity  in  his  reply  than  the  Superior 
knew. 

"  Then  there  is  but  one  course  to  pursue," 
said  the  Superior,  firmly.  "  I  regret  the 
necessity  of  this  severity  to  one  of  your  own 
blood,  but  the  boy  knows  too  much  of  us  to 
make  it  safe  for  him  to  leave  us.  I  have  recited 
to  you  how  clearly  he  outlined  Loyola's  policy 
when  he  first  addressed  me.  He  evidently 
made  the  most  of  his  interviews  with  Father 
Le  Fevre." 

"  I  am  unable  to  hear  your  decision  without 
pain,  my  father,"  replied  Robert,  with  well- 
assumed  grief,  "  but  we  are  taught  by  noble  ex- 
ample that  family  ties  must  yield  before  the 
necessities  of  our  Order.  Years  ago  you  taught 
me  to  say, '  I  had  a  father,'  and  '  I  had  a  brother,' 
rather  than  '  I  have,'  and  this  training  will 
stand  me  in  good  stead  now." 

"  I  admire  your  Christian  resignation,  my 
son,"  answered  the  old  man,  warmly  ;  "  your 
loyalty  shall  not  pass  by  unnoticed.  And  do 
you  still  adhere  to  your  determination  to  set 
out  for  Rouen  to-night  ? " 

"  I  do,  father ;  my  duties  there  will  admit  of 
no  delay." 

"  Then  farewell,  my  son  ;  I  will  not  keep 
you,  for  the  way  is  long.  I  thank  you  for 

[28] 


WITHOUT   A   CHANGE   OF   HEART 

coming  to  me  and  for  your  assistance  in  this 
sad  affair." 

Robert  bowed  reverently,  and  passed  silently 
out  of  the  door  which  the  Father  Superior  held 
open  for  him. 


[29] 


CHA.PTER  III 

THE-FUGITIVE 

BECOMEStA 

VOYAGERUPON 

TBANGE-SEA 


ARIS  WAS  IN  A  STATE 

of  unsettled  conditions  in 
1666.  The  civil  struggles  of 
the  Fronde  had  at  last  ceased, 
and  Louis  XIV.,  freed  from 
the  oppressive  influence  of 
Mazarin  by  the  latter's  death, 
was  just  beginning  to  show  so  unexpectedly 
that  indomitable  strength  of  mind  and  will 
which  afterwards  changed  the  destinies  of  the 
world.  Already  his  admiring  and  obedient 
subjects,  with  all  the  humility  shown  to  Eastern 
monarchs,  accepted  the  principle  by  which  his 
life  was  ruled,  —  "  L'e'tat,  c'est  moi "  ;  and  by 
skilfully  tempering  his  tyranny  with  rare  judg- 
ment and  the  prestige  of  military  glory,  Louis 
was  enabled  to  carry  out  his  ambitious  schemes. 
A  part  of  the  King's  plan  was  to  reach  out 
across  the  sea  and  found  a  French  settlement  in 
the  almost  mythical  New  World.  A  hundred 
years  before,  Coligny  had  sent  Villegagnon  to 
establish  a  colony  to  check  the  rival  settlements 
of  Spain,  and  after  various  vicissitudes,  France 

[30] 


A  VOYAGER  UPON   STRANGE   SEAS 

had  succeeded  in  supplanting  her  once-powerful 
opponent.  Louis  entertained  great  expecta- 
tions concerning  this  unknown  territory.  In 
it  he  foresaw  a  wonderful  opportunity  not 
only  to  extend  his  territorial  limits,  but  also 
to  replenish  his  depleted  treasury.  His  policy, 
therefore,  carefully  nursed  by  Colbert,  was  to 
favour  all  projects  which  tended  to  strengthen 
the  settlements,  freely  granting  territory  and 
power,  but  endeavouring  to  make  certain  that 
financial  returns  to  the  Crown  should  be  assured. 

This  was  the  immediate  world  into  which 
Robert  Cavelier,  the  escaped  novice,  walked 
that  night  when  he  rapidly  left  the  House  of 
the  Novices  behind  him.  The  change  in  his 
condition  had  come  so  suddenly  at  the  end  that 
he  had  made  no  plans,  and  his  one  thought  was 
to  put  distance  between  himself  and  his  recent 
prison-house.  He  was  safe  enough  from  pur- 
suit until  morning,  as  the  exchange  of  prisoners 
would  not  be  discovered  until  Father  Anselm 
made  his  regular  visit,  but  even  this  advantage 
was  small  enough,  and  Robert  increased  his 
speed,  turning  down  a  side  street  which  led  to 
the  river.  As  he  did  so,  he  came  into  violent 
collision  with  a  man  walking  hurriedly  in  the 
opposite  direction. 

"  A  murrain  on  ye  ! "  growled  the  man,  half 
in  pain,  half  in  startled  anger. 

[31] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

"  'T  was  an  accident,"  said  Robert,  quickly ; 
"  I  trust  you  are  not  hurt." 

"  Your  pardon,  Reverence,"  replied  the  man, 
removing  his  cap  and  bowing  awkwardly  as  he 
observed  the  cassock. 

Robert  flushed  hotly  at  the  mistake,  having 
forgotten  until  now  that  he  was  still  enveloped 
in  Jean's  garment. 

"  'T  is  a  fortunate  meeting,  father,"  continued 
the  man,  seriously ;  "  I  myself  was  hurrying  to 
find  a  priest  to  say  a  prayer  over  my  poor  mess- 
mate before  he  dies.  Will  you  come,  sir  ? " 

"  Willingly,"  replied  Robert,  seeing  no  alter- 
native. He  followed  the  man's  lead  until  they 
reached  a  wretched  dwelling,  close  to  the  water's 
edge,  wondering  at  the  ease  with  which  his 
guide  picked  his  way  up  the  broken  stairs  in 
the  utter  darkness. 

"  Have  a  care,  sir !  There 's  a  step  after  the 
door  opens." 

A  moment  more  and  Robert  found  himself 
in  a  small  garret,  partly  filled  with  men  and 
women  of  the  lowest  stamp,  who  had  gathered 
to  watch  the  final  struggles  of  a  poor  wretch 
lying  upon  a  bundle  of  rags  on  the  floor  in  the 
extreme  corner  of  the  room.  The  voices  ceased 
in  their  babel  as  Robert  quickly  pushed  his  way 
through  the  throng  and  knelt  beside  the  dying 
man. 

[32] 


"  You  're  only  just  in  time,  father,"  said  the 
man,  faintly,  a  gleam  of  satisfaction  lighting  the 
coarse,  grizzled  face  as  his  dim  eyes  fell  upon 
the  priestly  garments  ;  "  you  're  only  just  in 
time.  I've  had  no  use  for  priests  in  my  life, 
father,  but  somehow  I  felt  as  tho'  I  'd  stand  a 
better  chance  when  I  got  over  the  other  side  if 
I  had  a  prayer  said  for  me  now." 

Robert  repeated  the  prayer  for  the  dying. 

"  Thank  'ee,  father,  thank  'ee,"  said  the 
wretch,  with  scarcely  audible  voice,  "  I  don't 
know  as  how  't  will  do  me  any  good,  but  it 's  my 
last  chance.  Tell  the  captain  why  1  did  n't  keep 
my  promise.  Tell  him  I  'd  rather  go  to  New 
France  with  him  than  to  hell  in  my  own  ship. 
Tell  him  —  "  The  voice  ceased,  the  body  was 
convulsed  with  a  final  agony,  and  the  soul  had 
gone  to  plead  its  own  cause. 

"  He  is  dead ! "  Robert  answered  to  the  in- 
quiring looks  of  the  men  and  women  who 
crowded  the  squalid  pallet  to  take  a  last  fare- 
well of  their  comrade  ;  but  his  thoughts  were 
not  of  the  lifeless  body  before  him.  Those  last 
words  of  the  dying  man  had  brought  him  an 
inspiration. 

"  Who  was  this  man  ? "  he  asked  abruptly, 
turning  to  his  first  acquaintance.  "  What 
did  he  mean  by  speaking  of  ships  and  New 
France  ? " 

3  [33] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

"  Jacques  Moulin,  sir.  He  was  a  sailor,  like 
me,  sir,  and  if  he  'd  lived  he  'd  have  sailed  to- 
morrow for  New  France." 

"  Is  there  a  ship  sailing  for  New  France 
to-morrow  ? " 

"  There  is,  sir,  soon  after  daybreak." 

"  And  are  you  going  on  her  ?  " 

"  Not  me,  sir  ;  I  'd  rather  take  poor  Jacques' 
chances  of  sailing  straight  to  hell,  as  he  said, 
sir,  than  go  to  New  France  1 " 

"  Can  you  take  me  to  the  ship  ?  I  wish  to 
send  a  message  by  the  captain.  But  first  let 
me  change  these  garments,  else  I  may  be 
stopped  again  before  I  get  there." 

"  I  '11  be  glad  to  serve  you,  sir.  Here  is  poor 
Jacques'  old  kit ;  he  '11  have  no  further  use 
for  it." 

Robert  quickly  doffed  the  cassock  and  slipped 
the  loose  sailor  costume  over  the  few  clothes 
which  remained  beneath.  Thus  arrayed  and 
with  his  companion  of  the  night  still  serving  as 
guide,  he  again  found  himself  in  the  street, 
and  less  than  an  hour  later  the  dark  outline 
of  a  ship,  quietly  riding  at  anchor  in  the  river, 
greeted  his  sight.  Robert  waited  until  daybreak 
brought  .the  ship's  boat  to  shore,  when  he  re- 
ported to  the  captain.  Jacques  Moulin  had 
ended  his  earthly  voyages,  but  his  substitute, 
bearing  the  same  name,  made  good  his  con- 

[34] 


A  VOYAGER  UPON   STRANGE   SEAS 

tract  for  the  hazardous  journey  to  the  New 
World. 

Robert's  depressed  spirits  rose  at  once.  Here 
was  the  opportunity  he  sought.  Little  cared 
he  where  or  what  the  New  World  was.  So 
long  as  it  differed  from  the  old  one,  so  long  as 
it  was  distant  from  the  scenes  of  his  existence 
thus  far,  he  welcomed  it  with  outstretched  arms. 
And  hours  later,  as  the  ship  slowly  sailed  away 
from  the  shores  of  France,  Robert  Cavelier, 
drawing  in  the  bracing  salt  air,  realised  almost 
for  the  first  time  that  he  was  a  man  grown, 
with  a  man's  liberties  and  a  man's  ambitions. 

Not  until  the  ship  was  well  under  way  did 
Robert  feel  fully  satisfied  that  he  was  beyond 
all  possibility  of  pursuit,  but  as  the  land  gradu- 
ally faded  away  in  the  distance,  his  happiness 
knew  no  bounds.  Events  could  not  have  hap- 
pened more  fortunately,  as  even  a  few  days  on 
shore  would  have  meant  certain  hardship  to 
him,  being  without  money  and  not  daring  to 
disclose  himself  to  any  of  his  old-time  friends. 
More  than  this,  no  one  would  think  of  search- 
ing for  him  in  that  vast  wilderness  across  the 
seas.  Neither  the  rough  commands  of  the 
captain  nor  the  curses  showered  upon  him 
because  of  his  ignorance  of  sea  duties  served  to 
lessen  the  keen  delight  of  the  experience.  For- 
tunately several  of  those  who  had  shipped  for 

[35] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

this  uncertain  voyage  were  as  little  skilled  as 
himself,  or  "  Jacques  Moulin  "  would  have  lost 
his  reputation  as  a  sailor  forever. 

The  elements  refused  to  take  advantage  of 
the  ill-equipped  little  ship  and  her  strangely 
assorted  crew.  The  days  followed  one  another 
with  little  to  vary  the  monotony,  and  Robert 
had  ample  opportunity  to  become  acquainted  to 
a  greater  or  less  degree  as  he  chose  with  his 
fellow-voyagers.  The  larger  portion  of  these 
went  to  make  up  a  company  of  fifty  soldiers 
who  were  being  sent  out  by  Colbert  in  response 
to  a  memorial  received  by  him  from  Governor 
Courcelle,  begging  for  reinforcements  to  protect 
the  infant  colonies  against  the  Indians.  In 
addition  to  the  fifty  soldiers,  —  the  mighty 
army  the  King  sent  to  uphold  his  sovereignty 
in  the  new  country,  —  there  were  a  score  of 
adventurers  like  Robert  himself,  who  sought 
the  realisation  of  those  wonderful  stories  of  the 
wealth  and  beauty  of  the  new  land  which  had 
reached  Paris,  and  a  small  company  of  nuns, 
intent  on  aiding  in  the  noble  work  of  their 
sisters  in  the  wilderness.  They  were  the  only 
women  on  board  save  the  captain's  wife  and  the 
wives  and  daughters  of  two  of  the  adventurers, 
who  were  taking  their  families  with  them  to 
Montreal,  in  the  New  World. 

The  captain  had  made  the  voyage  once  be- 
[36] 


A  VOYAGER  UPON   STRANGE   SEAS 

fore,  and  he  was  particularly  proud  of  his  ac- 
complishment. Easily  persuaded  to  relate  his 
observations,  he  delighted  and  terrified  by  turn 
the  eager  voyagers,  who  absorbed  his  words 
with  intense  seriousness.  It  was  from  him  that 
Robert  learned  of  the  new  race  of  men  who  had 
been  masters  of  this  great  domain  until  the 
white  man  had  set  up  his  abode  in  their  midst, 
gradually  reaching  out  until  the  Indians  were 
forced  to  forget  their  former  boundaries.  From 
him,  too,  Robert  heard  of  the  trackless  forests, 
the  rivers  new  to  man's  eye,  and  the  boundless 
territory  into  which  even  the  native  savages 
had  scarcely  penetrated.  As  he  heard  these 
tales  he  felt  a  new  desire  growing  stronger  and 
stronger  within  him.  He  had  entered  upon 
this  unexpected  voyage  accidentally,  but  it  was 
leading  him  straight  to  the  opportunity  for 
which  his  heart  craved.  Back  in  the  House  of 
the  Novices,  —  which  time  now  seemed  years 
ago,  —  he  had  been  conscious  of  something  for 
which  he  yearned,  but  he  had  not  known  what. 
Now  he  knew.  The  captain's  stories  had  touched 
the  spring  which  started  the  hidden  mechanism 
to  work.  His  visionary  nature,  made  more 
practical  by  the  trials  through  which  he  had 
passed,  now  found  ample  food  upon  which  to 
feed,  and  in  his  dreams  he  imagined  himself  leav- 
ing the  settlement  behind  him,  and  pushing  out 

[37] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

into  the  wilderness,  —  in  search  of  he  knew  not 
what,  arriving  at  last  he  knew  not  where. 

After  eight  long  weeks,  the  anticipated  day 
arrived  when  the  welcome  sight  of  land  was 
promised,  and  the  eager  voyagers  crowded  the 
bow  of  the  ship,  shouting  to  one  another  in  a 
delirium  of  joy  as  what  is  now  known  as  St. 
Paul  Island  came  gradually  into  view.  The 
barren  mica  ledges,  bleak  as  they  were,  seemed 
a  token  of  reward  after  their  long  patience. 
On  through  Cabot  Strait,  a  few  hours  later, 
could  be  seen  the  perpendicular  cliffs  of  Bird 
Rocks. 

"  Snow,  snow  !  "  ran  from  mouth  to  mouth,  as 
the  ship  sailed  nearer,  and  each  looked  to  the 
other  for  an  explanation  of  the  phenomenon. 
Nearer  and  nearer  the  ship  approached,  until 
with  cries  which  were  startling  because  unex- 
pected, thousands  of  white-plumed  gannets  rose 
in  a  flock  from  every  ledge  and  fissure  of  the 
cliffs,  leaving  them  as  barren  as  the  island  just 
left  behind. 

On  the  following  morning  new  wonders 
presented  themselves.  Perce  Rock,  high  and 
precipitous,  with  its  great  hole  beaten  through 
by  the  waves,  was  marveled  at  as  the  ship 
passed  close  beside  it ;  but  real  delight  came  to 
the  tired  voyagers  when  anchor  was  cast  in 
Gaspd  Basin,  and  a  small  boat  was  put  off  to 

[38] 


A  VOYAGER  UPON   STRANGE   SEAS 

shore  for  a  supply  of  fresh  water.  The  fortunate 
ones  selected  to  go  on  land  were  watched  with 
jealous  eyes  by  those  who  were  obliged  to  re- 
main behind,  contenting  themselves  with  longing 
glances  cast  up  and  down  the  shore,  from  the 
narrow  convex  point  of  sand  over  to  the  bold 
contour  of  the  inner  harbour. 

The  delay  here,  however,  was  not  long.  The 
sails  were  again  hoisted,  and  the  little  ship  pro- 
ceeded on  its  journey  toward  its  haven.  Grad- 
ually, as  the  land  became  visible  upon  both 
sides,  the  ship's  company  realised  that  they  had 
exchanged  salt  water  for  fresh.  High  cliffs  on 
one  side,  rolling  meadows  on  the  other,  brilliant 
in  the  season's  verdure,  made  a  pleasing  pano- 
rama, and  served  to  lessen  the  impatience  for 
arrival.  Then  the  anchor  chains  again  rattled 
out,  as  the  ship  paused  at  its  first  point  of  im- 
portance, with  the  settlement  of  Quebec  high 
above  it.  The  voyagers'  attention  was  equally 
divided  between  the  first  rude  signs  of  human 
habitation  and  the  little  boats  which  had  put 
out  from  the  shore  to  welcome  the  rare  arrival 
of  a  ship,  filled  with  settlers  eager  to  exchange 
news  and  comment. 

But  here,  too,  the  stay  must  needs  be  short, 
as  the  ship  had  been  equipped  entirely  for  Mont- 
real. With  a  full  southwest  wind,  head  on, 
the  little  vessel  sailed  slowly  out  of  the  harbour 

[39] 


and  started  up  the  St.  Lawrence  on  the  last  leg 
of  her  long  voyage.  This  final  week,  buffeted 
by  head  winds  and  the  adverse  current  of  the 
river,  proved  most  tedious  of  all,  but  at  length 
the  destination  was  in  sight  and  the  end  at 
hand. 

As  the  ship  drew  nearer,  the  roofs  of  the 
small  dwellings,  built  closely  together,  could  be 
clearly  seen.  To  the  right  on  the  hill  was  the 
stone  windmill  of  the  seigniors,  pierced  with 
loopholes  to  be  used  for  defence  in  case  of 
necessity.  On  the  other  side,  at  the  junction  of 
the  river  St.  Lawrence  with  a  small  stream, 
stood  the  stone,  square-bastioned  fort  where 
lived  the  military  governor  and  the  few  soldiers 
of  the  Carignan  regiment.  In  front  and  in  line 
with  the  street  could  be  seen  the  enclosure  and 
the  buildings  of  the  Seminary  of  St.  Sulpice,  and 
near  by  those  of  the  Hotel  Dieu,  —  both  pro- 
vided with  defences  against  an  Indian  attack. 
And  rising  above  the  hospital  enclosure  was  the 
rude  spire  of  the  one  small  church  which  served 
the  spiritual  needs  of  the  entire  settlement. 

This  was  the  sight  of  Montreal  which  first 
greeted  Robert's  eager  gaze  as  he  stood  at  the 
bow  of  the  vessel,  watching  her  sail  up  to  her 
anchorage.  This  was  the  new  land  to  which  he 
had  come  that  he  might  carve  out  for  himself  a 
name  and  a  fame  worthy  of  a  man's  endeavour. 

[40] 


A  VOYAGER  UPON   STRANGE   SEAS 

But  Robert's  face  wore  a  look  which  did  not 
bespeak  happiness,  and  in  his  heart  he  felt  a 
strange  foreboding.  Was  this  due  to  the  aus- 
terity of  the  welcome,  to  the  evident  signs  of 
a  dreaded  foe,  or  was  it  caused  by  the  sight  of 
the  rude  cross,  standing  high  above  the  little 
Jesuit  church  in  the  distance  ?  Who  shall  say  ? 


[41] 


CHAPTER  TV 

THE-BIIITH 


HE    LITTLE     SETTLE- 

ment  of  Montreal  owed  its 
existence  to  a  strange  chain 
of  romantic  circumstances. 
Nearly  twenty-five  years  be- 
fore Robert  Cavelier  and  his 
shipmates  landed  upon  its 
shore,  this  child  of  the  New  World  had  been 
conceived  and  nurtured  in  the  minds  of  certain 
enthusiastic  devotees  of  mystical  tendencies 
far  across  the  water,  in  the  old  city  of  Paris. 
Jerome  le  Roger  de  la  Dauversiere  was  at  his 
devotions  one  day,  after  having  scourged  his 
shoulders  with  small  chains  until  they  were  raw 
and  bleeding,  wearing  the  belt,  ingeniously  man- 
ufactured with  twelve  hundred  sharp  points,  to 
complete  his  torture,  when  he  received  a  com- 
mand from  Heaven  to  establish  a  hospital  and 
a  new  order  of  hospital  nuns  across  the  seas 
upon  the  island  of  Montreal,  in  New  France. 
Dauversiere  pondered  long  over  the  revela- 
tion. The  island  of  Montreal  was  a  wilderness, 

[42] 


BIRTH    OF    A    MYSTICAL    CITY 

peopled,  according  to  report,  by  untamed  tribes 
of  Indians,  who  would  oppose  attempts  to  in- 
troduce civilisation  with  all  the  forces  of  sav- 
age warfare.  To  obey  the  voice  of  Heaven  this 
spot  must  needs  be  occupied  by  a  colony,  yet 
how  was  Monsieur  Dauversiere,  possessed  of  a 
moderate  competency  and  a  wife  and  six  chil- 
dren, to  accomplish  this  miracle  ?  But  the  way 
was  opened  to  him. 

At  precisely  the  same  moment  that  Mon- 
sieur Dauversiere  received  his  revelation,  a  young 
priest  in  Paris,  Jean  Jacques  Olier  by  name,  was 
upon  his  knees  in  the  old  church  of  St.  Oermain 
des  Pre's,  and  he  distinctly  heard  a  heavenly 
voice  proclaiming  to  him  that  he  was  to  become 
a  light  unto  the  Gentiles.  Further  revelations 
instructed  him  to  establish  a  company  of  priests 
upon  the  island  of  Montreal  in  the  New  France, 
to  advance  the  teachings  of  the  Jesuit  Church. 
Thus  it  was  that  Dauversiere  and  Olier  were 
brought  together  by  a  divine  agency,  although 
previously  wholly  unknown  to  each  other ;  and 
their  combined  strength  was  now  concentrated 
upon  the  sacred  undertaking. 

The  necessary  capital  for  the  enterprise  was 
soon  forthcoming,  and  the  Sieur  de  Maison- 
neuve,  a  gentleman  skilled  in  arms  and  pos- 
sessed of  rare  chivalry,  was  selected  to  take 
command  of  the  forty-five  men  who  went  to 

[43] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

make  up  their  company.  Mademoiselle  Mance 
received  divine  instructions  to  join  them,  that 
she  might  superintend  the  establishment  of  the 
House  of  Nuns ;  and  during  the  following 
February  this  remarkable  assemblage  embarked 
for  the  scene  of  their  consecrated  labours,  — "  to 
establish  the  banner  of  Christ,"  to  use  Dauver- 
siere's  own  words,  "in  an  abode  of  desolation 
and  a  haunt  of  demons." 

It  is  not  within  the  province  of  this  narrative 
to  relate  the  details  of  their  tempestuous  voy- 
age to  the  New  World  ;  of  their  cruel  reception 
by  the  authorities  of  Quebec,  who  jealously 
resented  their  arrival ;  of  their  unexpected 
reinforcements  in  the  persons  of  Marguerite 
Bourgeoys,  whose  face  and  works  form  the  fair- 
est picture  in  all  that  barbaric  history,  and  of 
Madame  de  la  Peltrie,  most  zealous  of  all  in  her 
devotion  to  the  Faith.  It  is  not  for  us  to  pass 
judgment  upon  these  enthusiasts,  adventurers 
though  they  were,  who  sacrificed  all  that  was 
dear  to  them  in  life  in  fulfilling  what  they  be- 
lieved to  be  the  call  of  Heaven.  Their  heroism 
has  meant  more  to  our  own  past  and  present  than 
can  easily  be  imagined,  and  we  are  bound  to  hon- 
our them  for  the  steadfastness  of  their  devotion. 

We  can  imagine  the  little  fleet,  comprising 
a  pinnace,  a  flat-bottomed  sail-boat,  and  two 
row-boats,  as  it  approaches  Montreal.  The 

[44] 


weary  company  are  singing  a  hymn  of  praise 
and  thanksgiving.  They  strike  the  shore  at 
last.  Maisonneuve  springs  from  his  boat  and 
falls  upon  his  knees  on  the  bank,  quickly  fol- 
lowed by  other  members  of  his  company.  The 
stores  are  landed,  and  at  once  an  altar  is  erected 
in  tribute  to  the  guiding  hand  which  has  safely 
steered  their  course.  Father  Vimont,  the  Su- 
perior of  the  Jesuit  missions,  takes  his  place 
beside  it,  while  all  the  company  kneel  before 
him.  He  is  clad  in  the  full  rich  raiment  of 
his  office,  and  the  old  man  presents  a  striking 
figure  in  the  picture.  The  Host  is  raised  and 
the  rite  performed,  and  now  the  priest  addresses 
the  little  company. 

"  You  are  a  grain  of  mustard  seed,  that  shall 
rise  and  grow  until  its  branches  overshadow  the 
earth.  You  are  few  in  number,  but  your  work  is 
the  work  of  God.  His  smile  is  upon  you,  and 
your  children  shall  inhabit  the  land." 

This  is  his  benediction.  The  daylight  fast 
fades  into  twilight,  and  twilight  into  night. 
Here  and  there  flicker  myriads  of  fireflies, 
which  are  captured  and  imprisoned  together 
into  garlands  with  which  to  adorn  the  sacred 
altar,  as  the  thick  darkness  falls  over  all.  Again 
the  voices  are  raised  in  hymns  of  praise  and  in 
prayers  for  the  future  welfare  of  this  child 
whose  birth  we  have  attended. 

[45] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

It  was  perhaps  not  strange  that  Robert  Cave- 
lier,  the  escaped  novice,  should  instinctively  feel 
the  presence  of  these  associations  as  his  foot  first 
trod  the  new  land,  even  though  twenty-five 
years  had  passed.  It  was  perhaps  not  strange 
that  he  should  have  felt  misgivings  he  could  not 
define,  and  for  that  reason  to  be  feared. 

The  arrival  of  a  ship  from  France  was  an 
event  of  no  small  importance  to  the  self-exiled 
people  of  Montreal.  Months  had  passed  since 
the  last  evidence  had  come  to  them  that  they 
were  not  entirely  forgotten.  The  severity  of 
their  daily  life,  the  terror  inspired  by  the  In- 
dians, and  the  exposed  position  of  the  settle- 
ment made  the  arrival  of  a  company  of  soldiers, 
small  though  it  was,  and  the  addition  of  new 
colonists,  a  matter  of  tremendous  import.  It 
was  natural,  therefore,  that  almost  before  the 
rattle  of  the  anchor-chains  ceased,  the  vessel 
was  surrounded  by  the  rudely  constructed  boats 
of  the  settlers,  filled  with  men  eager  to  welcome 
the  strangers  to  their  midst. 

Curiosity  was  the  ruling  passion  of  the  mo- 
ment. The  colonists  were  eager  to  scan  the 
features  of  the  new-comers  for  a  possible  famil- 
iar face,  and  the  chance  of  a  crumb  of  news 
from  relatives  and  friends  long  since  left  behind. 
The  voyagers,  face  to  face  with  new  scenes 
and  unknown  conditions,  strove  to  penetrate 

[46] 


BIRTH    OF    A    MYSTICAL    CITY 

the  stolid  expressions  of  the  weather-beaten  set- 
tlers, there  to  read  the  true  story  of  their  lives 
in  this  almost  isolated  wilderness.  Was  there 
fear  or  despair  behind  that  outward  calm  ?  If 
so,  the  new  arrivals  failed  to  find  it.  Was 
there  confidence  or  hope  ?  If  so,  upon  what 
could  it  possibly  be  based  ?  Even  the  hardiest 
of  the  adventurers  marveled  at  the  serenity  in 
the  faces  of  their  welcomers,  which  shone  forth 
with  added  lustre  because  of  the  darkness  of  its 
background  of  austerity  and  danger. 

Few  words  were  spoken  to  break  the  silence, 
as  the  small  boats  made  their  trips  between 
the  ship  and  the  shore  with  the  passengers  and 
cargo.  The  former,  few  in  number,  were  soon 
landed,  but  several  days  would  be  required  to 
place  on  shore  the  arms  and  supplies  which 
were  to  serve  the  augmented  colony  for  perhaps 
many  months  to  come.  The  soldiers  were  at 
once  marched  with  much  show  of  military  im- 
portance to  the  small  fort,  where  they  were 
gladly  welcomed  by  their  brothers-in-arms  of 
the  Carignan  regiment.  The  women  were  taken 
in  charge  by  the  hospital  nuns,  and  the  men 
found  themselves  quartered  in  a  long,  narrow 
building,  erected  after  the  plan  taught  the 
settlers  by  the  civilised  Indians.  Its  frame  was 
formed  of  stout  saplings,  planted  in  a  double 
row  to  make  the  two  sides  of  the  house,  with 

[47] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

their  tops  bent  together  until  they  met.  Poles 
were  lashed  across  the  saplings,  and  large  sheets 
of  bark  securely  fastened  over  all  to  form  the 
roof  and  sides.  A  narrow  aperture  at  the  top 
acted  both  as  entrance  for  light  and  exit  for 
the  smoke  of  the  cooking,  which  was  done  over 
fires  built  down  the  centre.  On  either  side 
were  shelves  which  served  as  such  by  day,  but 
were  transformed  at  night  into  bunks  for 
sleeping. 

It  was  in  this  house,  if  thus  it  may  be  digni- 
fied, that  Robert  was  lodged  on  his  first  night 
in  the  New  World.  His  companions  of  the 
voyage  were  there  also,  but  they  did  not  in- 
terest him.  He  was  watching  the  strange, 
swarthy  creatures  who  moved  silently  and 
noiselessly  in  and  out  of  the  building,  serving 
their  conquerors  with  apparently  no  ill-will 
because  of  their  subjection.  These  were  the 
civilised  Indians  of  the  settlement,  first  cap- 
tured by  force  during  some  raid  of  the  soldiers, 
and  later  bound  with  the  stouter  cords  of  Chris- 
tianity by  the  zealous  Jesuit  fathers.  Robert 
could  not  understand  their  servility.  Had  he 
once  been  master  of  this  wide  domain,  savage 
though  it  was,  he  would  have  yielded  life  it- 
self sooner  than  the  possession  of  it.  His 
sympathy  was  unconsciously  enlisted  in  their 
behalf,  for  here  was  the  submission  and  obedi- 

[48] 


BIRTH    OF    A    MYSTICAL    CITY 

ence  which  had  been  so  unbearable  to  him  in 
the  Old  World,  and  because  of  which  he  had 
been  driven  to  embrace  the  dangers  of  the 
New. 

He  listened  to  the  many  tales  of  adventure 
and  privation  related  by  the  older  settlers. 
These  stories  did  not  tend  to  relieve  the  anxie- 
ties of  the  new-comers,  but  to  Robert  they  were 
but  fuel  to  feed  the  flames  of  his  new  ambition. 
There  was  danger  to  be  met ;  so  much  the 
better,  since  he  would  be  forced  to  face  less 
competition.  There  were  unknown  wilder- 
nesses to  be  traversed,  and  mighty  rivers  to  be 
forded  ;  this  was  but  the  opportunity  he  craved. 
lJut  the  tales  of  the  settlers  did  not  tell  him 
how  or  where  this  opportunity  was  to  be  found, 
and  this  was  the  problem  which  he  undertook 
to  work  out  for  himself. 

Robert  awoke  early  the  next  morning,  after  a 
restless  sleep.  He  was  glad  to  escape  from  the 
smoky,  ill-smelling  enclosure  into  the  glorious  air 
of  a  perfect  September  day.  The  settlers  were 
not  yet  astir,  and  Robert  was  unobserved  as  he 
walked  past  the  square-bastioned  fort,  and  south- 
ward along  the  shore.  Quite  unmindful  of 
danger,  his  rapid  steps  soon  took  him  beyond  the 
rough  clearings  and  into  the  majesty  of  the  prime- 
val forest.  On  the  left,  though  he  could  not  see 
the  water,  he  could  hear  the  loud  roar  of  the 
*  [49  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

rapids.  Intoxicated  with  the  joy  of  his  sur- 
roundings, and  heedless  of  the  elapsing  time,  he 
pushed  eagerly  forward,  until  after  some  five 
hours'  tramping  the  mighty  St.  Lawrence  lay 
spread  out  before  him,  widened  into  that  broad 
expanse  which  has  since  been  called  the  Lake 
of  St.  Louis. 

This  indeed  was  life  !  Robert's  eyes  sparkled 
as  he  drew  in  long  breaths  of  the  invigorating 
air.  He  threw  himself  down  at  the  foot  of  a 
tree,  and  gave  his  imaginings  full  play.  Here 
was  the  definite  purpose  for  which  his  life  had 
been  created,  and  to  which  it  was  now  conse- 
crated. The  New  World  lay  before  him  in  all 
its  pristine  beauty.  It  was  for  him  to  tame  its 
savagery,  to  explore  its  secrets,  and  to  proclaim 
its  wonders.  But  in  the  midst  of  his  ecstasy 
again  came  the  practical  question  of  how  and 
whence,  rudely  shattering  his  brilliant  day- 
dream. Sobered  but  not  disheartened,  he  slowly 
rose  to  his  feet,  and  cast  a  long,  eager  look  upon 
the  scene  before  him.  Then  with  a  deep  sigh 
he  turned  his  back  upon  its  beauties,  and  started 
to  return  to  the  settlement. 

It  was  not  difficult  for  Robert  to  retrace  his 
steps,  for  the  roar  of  the  river  was  a  certain 
guide.  He  was  so  absorbed  in  his  thoughts, 
however,  that  without  a  moment's  warning  he 
came  full  upon  two  struggling  Indians,  locked 

[50] 


in  close  embrace  and  fighting  a  mortal  combat. 
Each  was  so  intent  upon  watching  every  move 
of  his  antagonist  that  neither  observed  Robert, 
who  stood  spell-bound  as  the  strong,  lithe 
bodies  struggled  this  way  and  that,  now  down 
on  the  ground,  rolling  over  and  over,  then  up 
again,  but  never  once  relaxing  that  deathlike 
grip.  It  was  such  a  contest  as  the  ancient 
Romans  must  have  delighted  to  watch  in  their 
bloody  arena ;  and  perhaps  the  savagery  in 
Robert's  nature  had  not  been  wholly  eradicated 
by  the  ages  of  civilisation,  for  he  keenly  enjoyed 
the  spectacle.  He  recognised  one  of  the  con- 
t~stants  as  a  convert  named  Piskaret,  whom  he 
had  seen  at  the  settlement  the  night  before, 
while  the  other  Indian  was  an  Iroquois  upon 
the  war-path,  for  he  was  bedecked  with  the 
feathers  and  paint  which  had  become  such 
dreaded  emblems  to  the  colonist. 

As  the  battle  became  fiercer,  the  combatants 
broke  away  from  each  other  for  a  moment,  but 
almost  instantly  they  were  together  again.  In 
that  moment,  however,  both  of  the  Indians  saw 
Robert,  and  the  struggle  took  on  a  new  interest. 

"  Run,  friend,  run  ! "  hoarsely  ejaculated  Pis- 
karet, whose  breath  was  nearly  spent ;  "  I  will 
hold  him  while  you  run  ! " 

The  Iroquois  redoubled  his  efforts.  Here 
was  an  opportunity  for  a  white  man's  scalp  as 

[51] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

well,  for  he  had  quickly  noted  that  Robert  was 
unarmed.  Both  the  Indians  were  on  the  ground 
now,  Piskaret  underneath  and  fast  weakening. 
Robert  had  not  thought  of  entering  into  the 
conflict  until  he  saw  the  Iroquois  slowly  moving 
one  hand  toward  the  knife  in  his  belt,  while  the 
other  held  Piskaret  firmly  by  the  throat.  He 
hesitated  no  longer ;  throwing  himself  fiercely 
upon  the  Iroquois,  he  seized  the  hand  which 
now  grasped  the  knife. 

Robert  Cavelier's  life  during  the  past  three 
years  had  given  him  no  chance  for  developing 
the  splendid  physique  with  which  Nature  had 
endowed  him.  When  the  battle  turned,  there- 
fore, from  the  two  Indians  to  the  Indian  and 
the  white  man,  the  latter  found  himself  as  a 
child  in  the  hands  of  his  active  opponent. 
Robert  realised  his  danger,  and  knew  that  his 
one  hope  lay  in  keeping  control  of  that  hand 
which  held  the  knife.  But  little  by  little  the 
Iroquois  forced  Robert's  grip,  and  little  by  little 
it  was  borne  in  on  Robert  that  his  hour  had 
come.  It  was  his  first  struggle  toward  the  con- 
quest of  the  unknown  world,  and  it  was  to  be 
his  last !  This,  rather  than  the  danger  in  which 
he  knew  his  life  stood,  was  what  caused  the 
pain  in  his  heart.  The  disappointment  of  his 
hopes,  the  thwarting  of  his  ambitions  so  recently 
aroused,  but  no  less  keen  in  their  intensity,  — 

[52] 


BIRTH    OF    A    MYSTICAL    CITY 

this  was  what  made  him  so  desperate,  but  all 
in  vain.  His  grip  upon  that  wrist  of  iron  was 
surely  weakening,  and  when  it  loosened  all 
would  be  over. 

But  Robert  had  forgotten  Piskaret.  When 
the  Iroquois'  attack  had  been  diverted,  Piskaret 
had  nearly  ceased  breathing,  but  the  fingers  at 
his  throat  were  released  just  in  time.  Slowly 
strength  came  back  to  him,  and  at  a  glance  he 
realised  Robert's  danger.  Piskaret  was  un- 
armed, but  the  Iroquois'  tomahawk  still  stuck 
in  his  belt.  Could  Robert  hold  that  wrist  until 
the  weapon  could  be  secured  ?  That  was  the 
question.  It  was  answered  when  Robert's  grasp 
at  last  gave  way  and  at  the  same  time  the  warm 
blood  spurted  over  his  face.  He  wondered  where 
he  had  been  struck,  as  he  felt  no  pain.  Then 
his  antagonist  fell  at  his  feet,  and  he  saw  the 
impassive  Piskaret  standing  before  him  with  the 
dripping  tomahawk  in  his  hand. 

"  Good  ! "  grunted  the  satisfied  Indian ; "  good  ! 
You  save  Piskaret 's  life ;  Piskaret  save  your 
life.  We  be  friends  while  the  sun  warms  and 
the  wind  blows."  And  he  held  out  his  hand 
after  the  fashion  he  had  learned  at  the  settlement. 

Robert  grasped  the  hand  outstretched  over  the 
body  of  the  dead  Indian.  Little  did  he  realise 
that  this  union  with  the  red  man  was  to  prove 
the  means  for  which  he  searched ;  little  did  he 

[53] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

know  that  in  this  tableau  was  pictured  the  hope 
of  his  future  success.  It  was  the  Indian,  with 
all  his  wiles,  yet  freed  from  the  white  man's 
jealousy,  who  was  to  give  Robert  Cavelier  the 
first  true  friendship  and  real  assistance  of  his 
life. 

Piskaret's  companionship  was  the  influence 
which  changed  Robert's  imaginings  into  definite 
certainties.  The  Algonquin  was  a  man  of  un- 
usual experience,  and  he  possessed  such  marked 
intelligence  that  it  had  been  considered  a  stroke 
of  great  good  fortune  when  he  accepted  the  Jesuit 
teachings  and  adopted  a  civilised  life.  Robert 
found  in  him  just  those  characteristics  which  he 
most  needed,  and  the  Indian,  first  bound  by  ties 
of  gratitude,  later  gave  to  his  friend  an  absolute 
devotion  which  knew  no  wavering. 

As  Robert  became  better  acquainted  with 
Piskaret  he  unfolded  to  him  his  plans,  indefi- 
nite though  they  were.  The  Indian  entered 
heartily  into  them,  and  from  him  Robert  learned 
of  that  trackless  forest  which  stretched  away 
toward  the  setting  sun ;  of  the  mighty  river 
which  the  Indians  called  the  Ohio,  and  which 
we  now  know  as  the  Mississippi,  rising  in  the 
land  of  the  Senecas  and  flowing  to  the  sea,  but 
at  so  distant  a  point  that  it  would  require  a 
year's  journey  to  reach  its  mouth.  The  appar- 
ent accuracy  of  this  information  sobered  Robert 

[54] 


BIRTH    OF    A    MYSTICAL    CITY 

in  his  outward  bearing,  even  though  it  fanned 
his  imagination  into  flame ;  and  he  spent  days 
and  nights  in  determining  the  geographical  bear- 
ing of  his  new  learning.  There  could  be  no 
doubt  about  it :  this  was  the  long-looked-for 
passage  to  the  Southern  Sea ;  this  great  river 
must  empty  into  the  "  Vermilion  Sea  "  and  grant 
him  a  western  passage  to  China. 

But  Piskaret  told  Robert  of  other  things  than 
these.  He  impressed  upon  him  that  it  was  ab- 
solutely necessary  for  him  to  learn  the  Indian 
language  before  he  could  hope  to  be  successful ; 
he  urged  upon  him  that  his  company  must  be 
made  up  of  hardy  and  intrepid  men  who  feared 
neither  danger  nor  privation  ;  and  he  also  per- 
suaded Robert's  impatient  soul  that  the  approval 
of  "  Onontio,"  the  Governor  of  New  France, 
must  be  obtained  to  carry  weight  with  such 
tribes  as  had  signed  treaties  of  peace  with  the 
white  men. 

Robert  could  but  see  the  wisdom  of  the  sa- 
gacious Indian's  advice.  It  meant  a  vexatious 
delay,  but  he  admitted  to  himself  that  it  made 
the  success  of  his  undertaking  the  more  assured. 
He  therefore  set  about  to  establish  himself  for 
the  next  two  or  three  years  in  such  a  manner  as 
might  make  the  term  of  postponement  as  brief 
as  possible. 

The  Seminary  of  St.  Sulpice,  controlled  by 
[55] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

the  Jesuit  corporation  of  priests,  had  supplanted 
by  this  time  the  association  of  devotees  which 
Maisonneuve  had  established  years  before,  and 
was  now  in  the  position  of  proprietor  and  feudal 
lord  of  Montreal.  Robert  Cavalier's  dread  of 
the  Jesuits  had  largely  vanished,  as  no  one  here 
knew  of  his  past  experiences,  nor  was  his  history 
likely  to  be  discovered.  At  all  events,  Robert 
was  ready  to  take  advantage  of  any  stepping- 
stone  to  the  accomplishment  of  his  purpose,  and 
he  therefore  eagerly  accepted  the  opportunity 
afforded  him  by  them  to  become  the  feudal  pro- 
prietor of  the  large  tract  of  land  located  at  what 
was  later  derisively  termed  "  La  Chine,"  because 
of  Robert's  early  belief  that  he  had  found  the 
western  passage  to  China, — just  where  he  had 
first  gazed  upon  the  Lake  of  St.  Louis  before 
his  meeting  with  Piskaret.  It  was  important 
to  the  seminary  that  this  point  be  protected 
against  Indian  attack,  and  the  terms  upon  which 
it  was  granted  were  exceedingly  generous. 

Here  it  was  that  Robert  Cavelier  became  the 
seignior  of  a  little  colony  of  settlers,  establish- 
ing a  palisaded  village,  and  receiving  a  yearly 
revenue  from  each  colonist.  One  might  have 
thought  him  contented  there,  respected  by 
his  less  fortunate  neighbours,  beloved  by  his 
constant  companion  Piskaret,  and  with  his 
seigniory  located  in  the  choicest  spot  in  all  New 

[56] 


BIRTH    OF    A    MYSTICAL    CITY 

France.  But  Robert's  neighbours  could  not 
hear  the  Song  of  the  Sirens  which  came  to 
him  from  the  broad  surface  of  Lake  St.  Louis, 
as  its  wave  beat  upon  his  shore ;  nor  could 
they  understand  the  promises  which  the  wind 
brought  him  from  beyond  the  forests  of  Cha- 
teauguay  and  Beauharnais  across  the  lake. 
Robert  forced  himself  to  be  content  for  the 
time  being  that  his  body  should  be  restricted  to 
the  limitations  of  his  seigniory,  while  he  mas- 
tered the  Indian  language,  and  laid  aside  sou  by 
sou  from  his  revenue,  the  capital  which  was 
to  gather  together  that  company  of  bold  and 
intrepid  spirits  who  would  work  out  as  his 
agents  the  plan  which  controlled  his  life.  But 
his  mind  recognised  no  bounds,  and  day  after 
day  and  night  after  night  it  wandered  across 
the  lake  and  the  forests,  painting  pictures  of 
the  great  beyond  which  at  times  almost  com- 
pelled him  to  break  his  resolution. 

At  last  the  time  arrived  when  Robert  knew 
that  he  was  sufficiently  familiar  with  the  Indian 
tongue  to  undertake  his  expedition.  The 
amount  which  he  had  been  able  to  set  aside  was 
more  meagre,  to  be  sure,  than  he  had  hoped,  but 
he  could  sell  his  seigniory  and  thus  be  fairly 
well  equipped.  He  was  therefore  ready  to 
make  the  trip  to  Quebec  with  his  trusted  friend 
Piskaret,  in  the  hope  of  interesting  the  Gov- 

[57] 


ernor  and  the  Intendant  in  the  plans  he  had 
so  carefully  perfected. 

What  a  weight  of  force  and  determination 
that  frail  canoe  contained  as  it  shot  from  the 
bank  of  La  Chine  early  that  morning !  The 
dusky,  impassive  figure  at  the  bow  was  merely 
performing  its  duty  to  its  master ;  but  the 
keen,  closely-knitted  features  of  the  man  at 
the  stern  showed  factors  of  far  greater  import. 
Robert  Cavelier  had  developed  much  in  the 
three  years  which  had  just  elapsed.  He  had 
come  to  the  New  World  with  no  plans  matured, 
with  no  definite  purpose  ;  he  was  now  a  man  in 
whom  burned  the  passionate  fire  of  ambition. 
This  journey  meant  to  him  the  reward  of  his 
long  self-denial,  and  its  importance  could  not  fail 
to  place  its  impress  upon  his  face.  There  might 
be  nothing  but  disappointment  ahead  for  him 
at  Quebec,  but  that  thought  had  not  once  oc- 
curred to  him.  Success  must  be  at  the  end 
of  such  unalterable  determination  as  his.  The 
world  was  not  dead  to  him  now.  The  golden 
sun  of  promise  was  rising  upon  his  life  after 
many  years  of  darkness,  and  the  waters  of  the 
St.  Lawrence,  over  which  the  canoe  swiftly 
sped,  were  gloriously  coloured  by  its  radiance. 

Out  across  Lake  St.  Louis,  straight  into  the 
rapids  of  La  Chine,  which  carried  the  frail 
bark  like  an  egg-shell  upon  the  crest  of  its 

[58] 


BIRTH    OF    A    MYSTICAL    CITY 

dashing  spray,  down  past  the  seigniories  of 
Contrecoeur,  Varennes,  Longueuil,  Boucherville, 
and  Vercheres,  sped  the  light  canoe  impelled  by 
the  sturdy  paddling  of  Robert  and  Piskaret. 
The  rough-hewn  stonework  of  St.  Sulpice  was 
dimly  outlined  in  the  grey  morning  light ;  the 
closely-massed  wooden  houses,  the  frowning  mill 
of  the  seigniors,  and  the  Hotel  Dieu  could  be 
barely  distinguished  as  the  still  sleeping  settle- 
ment of  Montreal  was  left  behind  them.  By 
the  time  the  sun  rose  Robert  was  well  upon 
his  voyage,  and  the  cheering  warmth  caused 
his  spirits  to  rise  even  to  a  greater  pitch  of 
confidence  and  enthusiasm.  The  fort  of  Sorel, 
the  military  seigniories  of  Becancour,  Lotbin- 
iere,  and  Lussandiere,  and  others  as  yet  uncom- 
pleted, greeted  his  eye  as  the  sixty  leagues 
passed  behind  him,  until  at  last,  five  days  after 
he  had  left  La  Chine,  he  reached  Quebec,  Mont- 
real's jealous  sister,  and  his  first  step  toward  his 
western  aspirations  was  accomplished. 


[59] 


CHAPTER-V 

THE  HERO 
BECOMES 

•AN- 
EXPLORER 


UEBEC  NATURALLY 

was  a  spot  of  great  interest 
to  Robert,  and  as  the  canoe 
shot  along  beneath  the  bold 
promontory,  giving  him  a 
nearer  view  than  he  had 
gained  from  the  ship  three 
years  before,  he  gazed  with  undisguised  curi- 
osity. Many  were  the  tales  which  came  to 
Montreal  from  the  older  settlement,  exagger- 
ated by  distance  and  distorted  by  jealousy  ;  for 
between  the  two  there  existed  undenied  discord, 
ever  kept  alive  by  the  rivalry  between  the  two 
Jesuit  organisations. 

Success  had  crowned  the  efforts  of  Father 
Laval  to  gain  the  temporal  control  of  Quebec. 
There  was  a  Governor  and  an  Intendant,  to  be 
sure,  but  the  Bishop  was  in  such  constant  com- 
munication with  his  Order  in  Paris,  which  in 
turn  kept  in  such  close  touch  with  King  Louis 
and  his  counsellors,  that  it  was  a  hardy  thing  for 
even  the  Governor  himself  openly  to  thwart  his 
will.  Made  bolder  by  the  importance  which 

[60] 


BECOMES    AN    EXPLORER 

this  power  brought  to  their  organisation,  the 
priests  were  almost  intolerable  in  their  attitude, 
not  hesitating  even  to  enter  the  houses  of  the 
inhabitants  to  learn  all  that  went  on  within, 
and  frequently  requiring  the  worthy  house- 
holder to  rise  from  his  table  to  be  confessed. 
Should  they,  the  chosen  representatives  of  their 
Order  in  New  France,  share  with  the  Sulpi- 
tians  of  Montreal  the  power  for  which  they  had 
striven  so  zealously  ?  Far  from  it.  The  rival 
settlement  must  be  endured,  because  it  too  was 
made  up  of  Jesuits,  but  it  must  not  be  encour- 
aged, since  in  the  minds  of  the  Bishop  and  his 
co-workers  at  Quebec,  it  constituted  an  element 
of  disorganisation  in  the  Church. 

Robert  lent  willing  ears  to  the  stories  of  du- 
plicity and  craft  which  the  settlers  and  the 
Sulpitians  freely  told  as  characteristics  of  Que- 
bec, but  this  did  not  lessen  the  interest  with 
which  he  eagerly  took  in  with  his  glance  the 
little  settlement  before  him,  -  -  the  weak, 
ill-garrisoned,  poorly  protected  capital  of  the 
colony,  which  represented  the  strength  of 
Louis  XIV.  in  the  New  World. 

Far  above  him,  on  the  edge  of  the  precipice, 
he  saw  the  Fort  of  St.  Louis,  with  the  banner 
of  France  floating  proudly  in  the  breeze.  Be- 
yond this  was  the  cathedral,  its  cross-mounted 
tower  in  silhouette  against  the  sky  ;  and  below 

[61] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

stood  the  closely-massed  houses  of  the  mer- 
chants. The  Upper  Town,  as  it  was  called, 
included  the  priests,  the  nuns,  the  government 
officials,  and  the  soldiers ;  and  here  also  were 
the  chateau,  the  convents,  and  the  seminary. 
At  the  foot  of  the  steep  rock,  along  the  water's 
edge,  lay  the  Lower  Town,  where  lived  and 
laboured  the  commercial  representatives  of  the 
settlement,  engaged  principally  in  the  beaver 
trade,  which  dominated  Quebec.  Hither  the 
trapper  and  the  bois-coureur  brought  together 
their  peltry  to  be  shipped  to  France. 

The  seat  of  the  government  was  at  the  Cha- 
teau St.  Louis.  Here  lived  the  Governor,  and 
from  his  lofty  outlook  he  commanded  a  marvel- 
ous view  of  land  and  water.  Even  Robert's 
little  canoe  could  not  have  been  beached  with- 
out his  notice,  had  he  cared  to  gaze  out  from  the 
chateau  over  the  broad  expanse  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence. The  soldiers  were  on  guard  at  the  fort, 
and  not  far  distant  stood  the  Ursuline  Convent, 
where  Mother  Mary  of  the  Incarnation  presided 
over  her  charge  of  pupils  and  nuns  ;  and  only  a 
little  way  beyond,  Robert  saw  the  Hotel  Dieu 
and  the  heavily-constrilcted  buildings  of  the 
Jesuits.  Their  new  church  had  just  been  erected 
opposite  the  great  church  of  Notre  Dame, 
which  stood  so  long  as  a  memorial  to  the  mas- 
sive foundations  of  their  tenets. 

[62] 


BECOMES    AN    EXPLORER 

It  required  no  particular  diplomacy  for  Rob- 
ert to  secure  an  audience  with  the  Governor. 
Courcelle  was  an  old  soldier  who  had  served  his 
King  on  both  sides  of  the  water,  and  any  plan 
which  promised  advantage  to  his  sovereign  was 
certain  of  careful  consideration.  And  no  man 
could  have  presented  his  cause  more  effectively 
than  Robert  Cavelier.  He  had  held  this  pic- 
ture of  the  trackless  West  and  its  possibilities 
in  his  mind  for  so  long  a  time  that  it  had  taken 
firm  possession  of  him.  So  real  had  it  become, 
indeed,  that  it  seemed  a  task  almost  accom- 
plished. 

It  was  a  scene  worthy  of  a  master's  painting 
which  was  witnessed  in  the  low-ceiled  room  of 
the  old  chateau  that  day.  The  Governor,  with 
his  well-preserved  figure,  his  sunburnt  face,  his 
beard  and  hair  closely  cut  and  well  turned 
grey,  his  dignified  and  soldiery  bearing,  was 
plainly  interested,  though  somewhat  incredu- 
lous. Before  him  was  Robert  Cavelier  in  the 
proud  strength  of  his  youth,  drawing  for  the 
older  man  a  brilliant  picture  of  what  his  plan 
promised.  Too  eager  in  his  enthusiasm  to  re- 
main seated,  he  poured  into  the  Governor's  ears 
that  Song  of  the  Sirens  wrhich  had  come  to  him 
so  often  at  his  own  seigniory  across  the  Lake  of 
St.  Louis. 

"  Look,  Excellency,"  cried  Robert,  pointing 
[63] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

from  the  window  to  the  broad  surface  of  the 
St.  Lawrence  spread  out  before  them,  "look  at 
the  mighty  river  which  has  become  the  property 
of  our  King.  Think  how  he  values  it,  as  one  of 
the  priceless  jewels  of  his  crown.  But  far  away 
to  the  westward  is  another  river,  beside  which 
this  beautiful  St.  Lawrence  is  but  a  stream.  It 
is  to  be  reached  only  through  trackless  forests, 
by  fording  streams,  by  enduring  hardship,  peril, 
privation,  —  but  is  it  not  worth  it  all  ?  I  will 
find  this  river,  upon  which  no  white  man  has 
ever  gazed,  I  will  possess  it  in  the  name  of 
France,  and  I  will  open  up  to  you  the  passage 
to  the  Southern  Sea." 

"  But  what  proof  have  you  of  this  ? "  asked 
the  Governor. 

It  was  Piskaret  who  answered.  Up  to  this 
time  he  had  stood  in  the  shadow  of  the  room 
with  his  arms  folded,  erect,  impassive ;  and  his 
quick  response  to  the  Governor's  question  was 
an  evidence  of  the  enthusiasm  which  had  been 
aroused  by  his  association  with  Robert. 

"  Listen,  Onontio.  Many  years  ago  I  was 
hunting  with  my  people,  the  Algonquins.  We 
were  many  days'  journey  from  our  wigwams 
when  we  came  upon  a  river  which  no  Algon- 
quin had  ever  seen  before.  Quickly  we  built 
canoes  and  set  out  upon  this  river,  stopping 
each  night  and  advancing  each  day  until  we 

[64] 


BECOMES    AN    EXPLORER 

knew  not  what  space  of  time  had  passed ;  and 
yet  we  came  not  to  the  outlet.  We  journeyed 
on  for  many  weeks,  until  we  cared  to  go  no  far- 
ther ;  then  we  turned  back  and  rejoined  our 
people,  who  had  thought  us  dead  long  since. 
Seven  times  had  the  moon  waxed,  and  seven 
times  had  it  waned,  yet  found  we  not  the 
mouth  of  that  great  river." 

Piskaret  ceased  and  drew  back  into  the 
shadow,  again  impassive. 

"  A  marvelous  story  ! "  ejaculated  the  Gov- 
ernor, turning  to  Robert.  "  You  must  give  me 
time  to  think  this  over,  and  Talon,  the  Intend- 
ant,  must  hear  what  you  have  to  say.  What 
you  and  the  Indian  have  told  has  much  of 
interest.  Remain  here  as  my  guest  for  a  few 
days." 

"  Gladly,  sir,"  replied  Robert,  greatly  encour- 
aged ;  "  I  thank  you  for  your  hospitality." 

Governor  Courcelle's  family  consisted  of  but 
his  daughter  and  himself.  Anne  Courcelle  was 
just  reaching  womanhood,  and  formed  a  brilliant 
contrast  to  her  father.  Tall,  as  women  go,  her 
well-moulded  figure  was  in  perfect  proportion, 
and  even  the  coarsely-woven  garments  of  the 
colonists  which  had  replaced  the  silks  and  laces 
she  brought  from  France  could  not  conceal  her 
grace  and  symmetry.  The  bracing  air  of  Quebec 
and  her  active  life  out  of  doors  had  given  her 
*  [65] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

health  and  colour  unknown  to  the  companions 
she  had  left  behind  her  when  she  accompanied 
her  father  to  his  post  in  the  New  World,  to 
which  the  King  had  appointed  him  five  years 
before.  She  was  but  a  child  then,  thirteen 
years  of  age,  and  she  had  thought  it  grand 
indeed  to  be  a  governor's  daughter ;  but  the 
five  years  had  shown  her  the  other  side  of  the 
picture,  and  it  sometimes  seemed  to  her  as  if 
the  monotony  of  her  existence  would  drive  her 
mad.  For  her  father's  sake  she  accepted  the 
inevitable,  concealing  how  great  a  sacrifice  she 
was  making  for  him. 

Just  as  Robert's  interview  with  the  Governor 
was  at  an  end,  Anne  entered  the  room  unan- 
nounced. In  the  dim  light  she  did  not  observe 
the  visitors,  but  they  could  not  fail  to  notice 
her.  The  hood  of  her  cape  had  fallen  back, 
permitting  the  wealth  of  chestnut  hair  in  its  dis- 
arranged beauty  to  form  a  frame  to  the  fair 
face  beneath.  The  brown  eyes  sparkled  with 
enthusiasm,  and  to  Robert  she  seemed  the  em- 
bodiment of  loveliness.  He  drew  in  his  breath 
quickly,  and  hastily  stepped  back  into  the 
shadow  with  Piskaret,  keeping  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  girl  before  him. 

"  Oh,  father,"  she  cried,  approaching  the 
Governor,  "  you  must  leave  this  dingy  room  and 
go  up  to  the  summit  of  the  Rock  with  me. 

[66] 


Enyravett  Oy  Joint  Andrew  <t  Son 


ANNE  INTERRUPTS  THE  CONFERENCE 

"  The  hood  of  her  cape  had  fallen  back,  permitting  the  wealth  of 
chestnut  hair,  in  its  disarranged  beauty,  to  form  a 
frame  to  the  fair  face  beneath." 


The  air  is  glorious,  and  I  have  run  all  the 
way  down  here  to  get  you." 

"  You  do  not  see  our  visitor,  my  daughter," 
replied  the  old  man,  checking  her  kindly. 
"  This  is  Master  Cavelier,  who  has  come  here 
from  Montreal  to  tell  us  wondrous  tales,  and  I 
have  asked  him  to  remain  at  the  chateau  until 
I  can  give  the  matter  proper  thought." 

Anne  curtsied  demurely  as  Robert  advanced 
into  the  light. 

"  I  crave  Master  Cavelier's  pardon  for  the  in- 
terruption, and  trust  he  will  accept  our  welcome 
to  Quebec." 

"  Our  interview  is  ended,  daughter,  and  I 
suggest  that  you  invite  our  visitor  to  be  my 
substitute  to  accompany  you  to  the  summit  of 
the  Rock.  He  can  endure  the  climb  far  better 
than  can  I." 

The  invitation  was  not  an  unalloyed  pleasure 
to  Robert.  The  only  woman  who  had  ever 
before  come  into  his  life  had  been  his  mother, 
and  even  she  was  but  a  memory  to  him.  Anne 
represented  a  side  of  life  which  was  entirely 
new ;  and  as  he  followed  her  through  the  gar- 
den of  the  chateau  and  walked  beside  her  up 
the  steep  path  which  led  to  the  summit  of 
the  Rock,  he  felt  overpowered  by  a  diffidence 
which  was  a  sensation  as  unpleasant  as  it  was 
novel.  The  girl,  however,  quite  at  her  ease, 

[67] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

spoke  of  one  thing  after  another  until  their 
goal  was  reached,  as  if  unconscious  of  Robert's 
embarrassment. 

"  There  ! "  she  exclaimed,  quite  out  of  breath. 
"  Saw  you  ever  anything  more  beautiful  ? " 

It  was  indeed  a  wondrous  sight.  Below 
them  lay  the  beautiful  St.  Lawrence,  broad- 
ened just  in  front  by  its  junction  with  the  St. 
Charles.  Then  it  stretched  away  to  the  south 
mile  after  mile,  narrowed  down  between  its 
banks.  Far  beyond  were  great  valleys  and 
forests,  contrasting  their  ever-varying  shades  of 
green  with  the  pure  silver  of  the  water.  Robert 
gazed  at  it  long  before  he  ventured  to  reply. 

*''Tis  beautiful  indeed,  Mistress  Courcelle, 
and  I  thank  you  for  giving  me  this  opportunity 
of  seeing  it.  I  know  the  river  well,  but  never 
had  I  thought  how  fair  it  was  to  look  upon." 

"  My  father  said  that  you  came  from  Mont- 
real," continued  Anne,  noticing  that  her  com- 
panion lapsed  into  silence ;  "is  it  like  Quebec  ? 
I  have  never  been  there." 

"  Nay,   nay,"  responded  Robert,  "  't  is  quite 
different.     'T  is  less  forward  —  less  completed  - 
than  Quebec." 

"  And  have  you  grown  accustomed  to  this 
new  home  in  the  wilderness  ? " 

"Yes,  Mistress  Courcelle,"  replied  Robert, 
simply.  "  'T  is  the  only  home  I  have  ever 

[68] 


BECOMES    AN    EXPLORER 

known  in  which  I  have  found  happiness.     Yes, 
I  have  grown  accustomed  to  it,  and  I  love  it." 

Anne  was  surprised  by  his  intensity  and  the 
evident  tone  of  sadness  in  his  voice. 

"  I  crave  pardon,  sir,"  she  said  quietly,  "  for 
having  quite  unwittingly  recalled  unhappy 
memories." 

"  Ah,  Mistress  Courcelle,  forgive  me  for 
permitting  the  pain  of  the  past  to  enter  into 
the  pleasure  of  the  present,"  replied  Robert, 
hastily ;  "  you  could  not  know  how  much  the 
freedom  of  the  life  here  means  to  me.  I  have 
struggled  hard  and  laboured  long  to  bring 
about  the  realisation  of  the  one  ambition  of 
my  life,  and  now  that  I  am  on  the  verge 
either  of  gratification  or  disappointment  I  can 
scarce  contain  myself.  Again  I  pray  you, 
forgive  me." 

"  Right  willingly,  Master  Cavelier ;  I  under- 
stand full  well  how  trying  are  uncertainties  and 
delays.  I  wish  you  well,  sir,  in  your  under- 
taking, whatever  it  may  be." 

Robert  looked  into  her  face  with  grateful 
pleasure.  These  were  the  first  words  of  sym- 
pathy which  he  had  heard  for  years,  and  they 
moved  him  deeply. 

"  You  are  generous,  fair  mistress,  —  more  so 
than  I  deserve,  and  I  thank  you  for  it.  Your 
good  wishes  will  help  me  much." 

[69] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

"  If  I  can  help  you  further,  I  will  gladly  do 
so.  Your  earnestness  betokens  an  important 
enterprise." 

"  The  most  potent  aid  lies  in  your  father's 
favourable  decision,  but  I  thank  you  none  the 
less  for  what  you  say." 

Robert  relapsed  into  silence,  his  eyes  stretched 
to  the  west.  Anne's  curiosity  was  aroused. 
What  could  be  the  quest  which  had  brought 
this  strange,  serious  young  man  from  Montreal 
to  Quebec,  and  which  so  dominated  him  that 
he  betrayed  himself  almost  by  the  first  words 
he  spoke  ?  She  looked  at  the  figure  beside 
her,  gazing  out  across  the  water  as  if  entirely 
unconscious  of  her  presence.  -  Anne's  nature 
could  endure  this  suspense  no  longer. 

"  What  do  you  see  so  far  to  the  westward, 
Master  Cavelier  ? "  she  asked,  smiling. 

Her  words  brought  Robert  to  himself,  but  he 
was  not  thinking  of  her  when  he  replied. 

"  What  do  I  see,  ask  you  ?  Far  to  the  west- 
ward I  see  wondrous  beauties  waiting  to  be 
found  ;  I  see  unknown  powers  waiting  for  their 
conqueror ;  I  see  a  mighty  empire  waiting  to  be 
claimed." 

The  strange  words  startled  Anne,  and  she 
regarded  her  companion  keenly.  Surely  there 
was  something  more  than  vagaries  behind  the 
manifest  sincerity  of  the  voice  which  spoke 

[70] 


BECOMES    AN    EXPLORER 

them.  At  all  events,  it  could  do  no  harm  to 
enter  into  the  same  spirit. 

"But  are  you  not  looking  over  the  tops  of 
the  trees  which  make  up  those  impenetrable 
forests,  Master  Cavelier  ?  Are  there  not  ob- 
stacles hidden  beneath  which  the  eye  reaches 
not  ? " 

"  Ay,  many  obstacles,  and  perils  too ;  but 
should  these  prevent  the  attempt  when  so  great 
a  reward  awaits  beyond  ? " 

The  girl's  evident  interest  encouraged  Robert 
to  unfold  to  her  those  plans  which  lay  so  close 
to  his  heart.  His  diffidence  had  vanished  now  ; 
he  felt  at  home  in  the  subject  which  possessed 
him  ;  and  Anne  listened  with  undisguised  ad- 
miration as  he  painted  his  picture  with  the 
bold  strokes  of  a  master,  in  glowing  colours 
heightened  by  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun. 
The  time  passed  all  too  quickly,  and  both  re- 
gretted that  the  hour  had  come  to  return  to  the 
chateau. 

This  first  visit  with  Anne  to  the  summit 
of  the  Rock  was  destined  to  be  but  the  begin- 
ning of  a  much  longer  stay  than  Robert  had 
anticipated.  The  Governor,  occupied  with 
pressing  matters  of  administration,  delayed  his 
visitor's  departure  until  the  days  turned  into 
weeks.  Under  other  conditions  Robert's  im- 
patient spirit  would  have  rebelled,  but  as  he 

[711 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

and  Anne  day  after  day  exchanged  confidences 
in  the  chateau  garden  or  climbed  to  their  point 
of  vantage  upon  the  Rock,  he  realised  that  a 
new  influence  had  come  into  his  life,  and  that 
the  world  contained  for  him  more  than  undis- 
covered forests  and  unknown  rivers.  He  found 
himself  an  explorer  already,  but  the  task  which 
now  confronted  him  was  to  resolve  the  mysteries 
of  a  maiden's  heart. 

Robert  had  no  reason  to  think  that  Anne  in 
any  way  responded  to  his  growing  attachment. 
No  word  of  it  had  entered  into  their  conversa- 
tions, which  touched  upon  the  intricacies  of 
colonial  life  and  government,  of  Anne's  early 
days  in  France,  of  his  own  experiences,  but 
most  often  of  his  mission  to  Quebec.  Robert 
delighted  to  watch  her  enthusiasm  kindle  to 
fever  heat  as  he  stood  upon  the  Rock  and 
pointed  out  to  her  the  path  which  he  believed 
led  to  the  great  river  of  the  Ohio  and  the  pas- 
sage to  the  Southern  Sea.  Of  these  things  they 
talked ;  but  Robert  ever  hesitated  to  refer  to  the 
subject  which  now  overshadowed  the  one  that 
had  so  long  been  the  controlling  influence  of 
his  life. 

One  day  it  happened  that  Robert  was  drawn 
to  tell  her  of  his  aversion  to  the  Jesuits.  To  his 
surprise  Anne  sprang  to  her  feet  with  flaming 
cheeks. 

[72] 


BECOMES    AN    EXPLORER 

"  Do  you  really  hate  them  ? "  she  exclaimed. 
"  So  do  I,  and  so  does  father ;  but  you  must 
not  speak  it  in  Quebec.  Father  is  obliged  to 
endure  their  insults  and  do  their  bidding  as 
if  they  were  the  agents  of  the  King  himself. 
These  hateful  priests  come  to  the  chateau  and 
fawn  about  as  if  they  were  the  most  humble 
subjects  in  all  New  France,  but  so  soon  as 
father's  plans  differ  from  their  own,  straight- 
way a  letter  goes  to  Paris  which  is  certain  to 
bring  a  rebuke  from  Colbert  and  added  inso- 
lence from  the  priests." 

"  Insolence,  say  you  ?  "  asked  Robert,  amazed 
by  Anne's  revelation.  "  Surely  they  keep  their 
antagonism  to  the  government  beneath  the 
surface  ? " 

"  By  no  means,"  replied  Anne,  warmly. 
"  Why,  only  a  few  days  before  you  arrived  a 
complaint  was  made  that  Father  Raguenneau 
had  entered  the  household  of  one  of  the  settlers, 
and  was  interfering  with  his  methods  of  disci- 
plining his  family.  Father  sent  a  sergeant  to 
him  with  a  simple  request  to  moderate  his 
efforts.  What  reply  do  you  suppose  came  back  ? 
'  Go  tell  Monsieur  de  Courcelle  that  I  visited 
my  people  before  he  was  Governor,  and  that  I 
shall  visit  my  people  after  he  has  ceased  to  be 
Governor.'  And  father  is  absolutely  powerless 
to  punish  him  for  his  insolence." 

[73] 


ROBERT    CAVEL1ER 

"  It  is  well  that  your  father  has  Talon  to 
assist  him  in  this  difficult  business." 

"  Talon  assist  father  ?  You  do  not  know 
him  !  He  is  a  weathercock,  a  butterfly !  M'sieur 
the  Intendant  is  sent  here  by  the  King  to  be 
a  spy  upon  my  father  and  to  send  back  word 
to  France  of  all  that  happens  here.  Father  is 
the  soldier  ;  Talon  is  the  diplomat.  He  is  al- 
ways on  the  winning  side,  whether  it  be  with 
the  Bishop  or  with  the  people,  while  father  is 
the  one  to  carry  out  the  unpopular  measures. 
You  may  be  sure  that  no  complaint  of  Talon 
ever  goes  to  Colbert." 

"  But  the  Jesuits  have  surely  contributed 
much  to  the  government  of  the  colony  in  gain- 
ing such  control  over  the  Indians,"  said  Robert, 
surprised  himself  that  his  spirit  of  fairness  made 
him  for  the  moment  the  champion  of  those 
whom  he  considered  his  only  enemies. 

"Indeed  they  have,"  Anne  answered  promptly, 
"  and  they  have  done  more  than  that.  If  they 
would  but  keep  to  their  religious  work  instead 
of  trying  to  control  the  politics  of  the  colony, 
they  would  be  the  most  valued  members  of 
the  settlement.  They  are  absolutely  tireless  in 
their  labours,  and  pass  through  all  sorts  of  hard- 
ships, —  go  without  food,  tramp  great  distances 
through  the  forests  with  bleeding  feet,  even 
to  baptise  a  dying  Indian  ;  and  they  suffer 

[74] 


BECOMES    AN    EXPLORER 

torture  and  even  death  without  a  murmur. 
Why,  I  remember  when  Father  Jogues  was  cap- 
tured by  the  Iroquois  while  he  was  on  his  way 
to  an  Indian  mission.  His  captors  beat  him 
until  he  was  unconscious,  and  then  tore  off  his 
finger-nails  with  their  teeth.  When  he  came 
to  himself  he  saw  an  old  Indian  lying  beside 
him,  and  he  stretched  out  his  bleeding  hands 
and  baptised  him.  Then  the  Iroquois  beat 
him  again,  and  pulled  out  his  beard  and  hair, 
and  laid  burning  embers  upon  his  body  until  he 
fainted.  After  this  they  forced  him  to  journey 
from  one  Mohawk  town  to  another,  cutting  off 
his  thumb  at  one  stopping- place  and  hanging 
him  up  by  the  wrists  at  another,  —  testing  the 
extent  of  torture  he  could  endure  before  he  died. 
Oh,  I  shudder  as  I  think  of  it ! " 

Anne  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  for  a 
moment  before  she  continued,  - 

"  Yet  suffering  as  he  was,  when  an  ear  of 
green  corn  was  thrown  to  him  for  food,  he  took 
a  few  rain-drops  which  clung  to  the  husks  and 
baptised  four  Huron  prisoners  who  had  just 
been  brought  in.  Was  it  not  heroic  ?  And 
yet  Father  Jogues  escaped  and  returned  to 
France,  only  to  come  back  again  and  to  be 
finally  murdered  by  those  very  savages  for  whose 
salvation  he  had  worked.  And  this  is  only  one 
example.  Why,  why  won't  they  be  content  to 

[75] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

cany  on  their  noble,  self-denying  labours,  and 
leave  father  and  the  government  alone  ! " 

Anne's  narrative  quite  exhausted  her.  Robert- 
had  listened  with  double  interest.  Here  was  an 
example  of  that  blind  obedience  which  every 
true  disciple  of  Loyola  must  possess.  Father 
Jogues  was  but  one  spoke  in  the  wheel  which 
was  slowly  but  steadily  turning  in  response  to 
the  requirements  of  that  mighty  Company.  His 
personal  martyrdom  was  sublime,  but  the  "  spirit 
of  the  Order  "  looked  upon  it  simply  as  a  step 
in  the  furthering  of  its  great  purpose.  Robert 
understood  why  the  Jesuits  sought  to  gain  con- 
trol over  the  Indians ;  he  could  have  explained 
to  Anne  why  they  would  never  be  content  to 
withhold  their  hands  from  the  government  of 
the  colony ;  —  but  he  feared  that  the  explana- 
tion would  lead  too  deeply  into  that  portion  of 
his  own  history  which  thus  far  he  had  kept 
carefully  to  himself. 

Robert  assisted  Anne  to  her  feet,  and  for  a 
little  time  they  stood  in  silence,  gazing  far  into 
the  west.  Neither  seemed  to  look  for  any  re- 
sponse from  the  other,  but  both  were  wrapped 
in  their  own  thoughts.  Is  it  not  ever  so  when 
two  personalities  are  unconsciously  drifting 
toward  that  moment  which  is  to  make  them 
one  ?  The  subconscious  appreciation  between 
them  becomes  more  definite,  the  necessity  for 

[76] 


BECOMES    AN    EXPLORER 

spoken  thought  is  less  apparent,  and  the  per- 
fectness  of  understanding  is  complete.  Robert 
knew  how  much  more  important  his  long- 
cherished  plan  had  become  since  Anne  came 
into  his  life :  he  had  made  promises  to  her  of 
what  that  wilderness  would  bring  forth,  which 
must  now  be  fulfilled ;  Anne  recognised  that 
Robert's  visit  had  removed  the  load  of  loneliness 
and  discouragement  from  her  heart,  that  to  her 
he  was  no  visionary,  that  his  faith  had  been  im- 
parted to  her,  and  that  she  shared  his  sanguine 
expectations.  Yet  the  moment  had  not  come 
when  either  could  express  these  thoughts  to  the 
other. 

It  was  Robert  who  broke  the  silence. 

"  Do  you  think  that  Talon  will  look  favour- 
ably upon  my  petition  ? " 

"  I  know  not  what  M'sieur  Talon  may  do ; 
it  all  depends  upon  what  outside  influence  is 
brought  to  bear  upon  him.  You  are  sure  of 
father.  He  believes  in  you  and  will  help  you 
all  he  can,  but  I  have  told  you  how  firmly  his 
hands  are  often  tied.  I  will  try  to  learn  from 
him  what  attitude  the  Intendant  has  taken." 

Slowly  and  silently  they  walked  together 
back  to  the  chateau,  no  word  being  spoken  until 
they  had  nearly  reached  the  grey  stone  walls. 
Suddenly  Robert  stopped  and  the  girl  beside 
him  looked  into  his  face  inquiringly.  His  gaze 

[77] 


was  fixed  upon  her  so  intently  for  a  moment 
that  her  eyes  fell. 

"  Why  do  you  look  at  me  like  that,  Master 
Robert  ?  Have  I  offended  you  ? " 

"  Offended  me  ? "  Robert  smiled,  then  his 
face  grew  serious  again. 

"  Nay,  not  that,"  he  answered  ;  "  I  was  trying 
to  hold  back  the  words  which  my  heart  has  been 
crying  out  for  days,  but  I  can  do  so  no  longer." 

Anne  gave  no  evidence  that  she  heard  him. 
Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  a  slender  tendril  of 
ivy  which  had  failed  to  gain  its  hold  upon  the 
stern  old  stones.  But  even  in  the  twilight 
Robert  saw  the  heightened  colour  in  her  cheeks, 
and  it  gave  him  courage. 

"  Can  you  not  surmise  what  those  words  are, 
Mistress  Anne  ?  I  came  here  with  one  thought 
in  my  mind,  one  wish  in  my  heart,  but  now  the 
great  desire  which  possessed  me  means  nothing 
unless  1  can  take  into  that  wilderness  the  knowl- 
edge that  you  are  interested  in  the  success  of  my 
undertaking,  —  not  for  the  sake  of  France,  but 
for  my  own  sake  ;  unless  I  may  think  of  you,  as 
I  lie  upon  the  ground  at  night,  watching  the 
stars  overhead  and  breathing  in  the  odour  of  the 
pines,  knowing  that  far  away,  —  perhaps  watch- 
ing the  same  star,  —  you  too  are  thinking  of  me 
and  wishing  for  my  safe  return.  Is  it  asking 
too  much  ? " 

[78] 


Robert  held  out  his  hand  to  her  and  tried  to 
find  his  answer  in  the  beautiful  face  which  Anne 
turned  toward  him.  She  was  quite  herself  now, 
but  Robert  failed  to  recognise  the  mischief 
which  sparkled  in  her  eyes.  Slyly  she  laid  her 
hand  in  his,  and  Robert  grasped  it  eagerly,  but 
she  quickly  withdrew  it  and  resumed  her  de- 
mure attitude.  Then  she  made  him  a  low 
curtsy,  and  said,  with  half-averted  face,  - 

"It  is  not  meet  that  I  should  share  with 
France  the  honours  of  your  explorations,  Master 
Cavelier ! " 

Robert  took  a  quick  step  toward  her,  but  she 
skilfully  eluded  him,  disappearing  within  the 
chateau.  For  a  moment  Robert  stood  bewil- 
dered, and  then  he  slowly  followed  his  tor- 
mentor. Was  she  making  sport  of  him,  or 
could  it  be  true  that  he  had  not  been  too  pre- 
sumptuous, after  all  ?  He  could  not  tell,  but 
he  awaited  Anne's  reappearance  at  the  evening 
meal  with  much  impatience. 

After  supper  the  Governor,  Anne,  and  Robert 
walked  out  into  the  chateau  garden,  as  was  their 
custom.  Soon  the  old  man  was  summoned  to 
the  council-chamber,  and  Anne  attempted  to 
follow  her  father ;  but  Robert  detained  her. 

"  Would  you  run  away  again,  Mistress  Anne, 
after  giving  me  so  pert  an  answer  to  my 
question  ? " 

[79] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

"  '  Pert,'  Master  Robert,  —  say  you  '  pert '  ? 
Should  I  be  a  loyal  subject  to  my  King  were 
I  to  take  for  myself  that  which  belongs  to 
France  ? " 

"  A  peace  to  your  jesting,  Anne !  T  is  a 
matter  too  serious,  to  me  at  least,  to  treat  so 
lightly.  I  have  no  right  to  ask  you  for  an 
answer,  for  I  am  but  a  penniless  adventurer, 
with  naught  but  my  love  and  my  future  aspira- 
tions to  place  before  the  woman  I  would  ask  to 
be  my  wife  ;  but  the  heart  knows  no  judgment, 
Anne,  and  I  could  not  keep  my  secret  longer. 
Anne !  Anne  !  reproach  me  if  you  will  for  my 
presumption,  but  do  not  tell  me  that  you  love 
me  not !  " 

Robert's  arm  was  about  her,  but  she  did  not 
resent  it.  He  drew  her  to  himself,  and  she  did  not 
resist.  The  jesting  mood  had  vanished  now,  for 
she  could  read  in  her  lover's  face  the  pain  which 
she  had  caused  him.  She  was  too  happy  to 
deny  herself  further  the  joy  of  accepting  this 
strong  man's  devotion,  and  she  was  too  proud 
in  the  winning  of  it  to  conceal  her  gladness 
longer  from  him.  She  looked  full  into  his  face, 
and  Robert  read  in  those  deep  brown  eyes  the 
answer  that  he  craved.  But  the  words  meant 
even  more  to  him. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  that  I  do  not  love  you, 
Robert,  for  to  do  so  would  be  false.  I  do  love 

[80] 


BECOMES    AN    EXPLORER 

you,  and  I  have  loved  you  ever  since  I  learned 
to  know  how  true  a  heart  and  how  brave  a  soul 
were  yours." 

Robert  held  her  face  in  his  hands  and  gazed 
into  the  depths  of  her  expressive  eyes.  Then 
he  pressed  his  lips  upon  her  forehead  in  silent 
thankfulness  and  joy.  Anne  was  startled  by 
the  intensity  of  his  love,  but  was  reassured  by 
the  devotion  which  shone  from  his  eyes. 

"  I  only  wish  I  were  a  man,"  said  Anne  at 
last,  "  that  I  might  join  you  in  your  expedition, 
and  push  with  you  through  the  forest  mazes 
until  the  great  river  of  the  Ohio  greeted  our 
gaze." 

"Nay,  nay,  dear  Anne,"  answered  Robert, 
with  a  satisfied  smile  ;  "be  content  to  remain 
your  own  fair  self,  that  I  may  take  you  as  the 
ideal  for  which  to  strive  in  all  my  labours." 

The  world  had  again  changed  for  Robert 
Cavelier.  What  was  once  the-all-absorbing  pas- 
sion of  his  life  now  became  a  means,  and  not  an 
end.  He  would  win  the  laurels  which  his  ex- 
plorations might  bring  to  him,  but  not  alone 
for  France.  He  would  win  them  for  the  sweet 
privilege  of  placing  them  upon  the  brow  of  the 
girl  beside  him,  whose  future  was  indissolubly 
linked  with  his  own. 


[81] 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE^HERO 
CONTENTS  -HIMSELf 


HEN     ROBERT      MET 

Anne  upon  the  Rock  the  fol- 
lowing morning  he  was  sur- 
prised to  find  her  angry  and 
excited.  Hardly  waiting  to 
r  greet  him,  she  exclaimed,  — 
"  There  has  been  treachery, 
Robert,  and  M'sieur  Talon  is  the  traitor.  I 
had  a  foreboding  that  that  man  would  mar  our 
hopes." 

Robert  was  entirely  unable  to  understand  the 
meaning  of  her  words  except  as  threatening  to 
thwart  his  petition,  but  the  one  word  "  our " 
which  she  unconsciously  used  served  to  lessen 
the  shock  in  no  small  degree. 

Anne  did  not  wait  for  Robert  to  question 
her. 

"  I  have  wondered  why  father  delayed  giv- 
ing you  an  answer  for  so  long  a  time,  but  I  was 
selfish  enough  to  be  glad  of  any  cause  which 
should  postpone  the  day  of  your  departure.  I 
knew  that  he  thought  favourably  of  your  plans, 

[82] 


CONTENT    WITH    HALF    A    LOAF 

and  I  supposed  that  the  Intendant  had  been  so 
engaged  with  other  matters  that  he  had  been 
unable  to  discuss  them  with  him.  But  when  I 
talked  with  father  last  night  he  appeared  much 
troubled,  and  this  morning  I  learn  that  he  dis- 
cussed your  petition  with  M'sieur  Talon  the 
very  night  of  your  arrival.  The  Intendant 
asked  for  a  day  or  two  to  consider  the  matter, 
and  has  invented  one  excuse  after  another  to 
make  delay,  until  last  night  he  told  father  that 
the  Jesuits  were  planning  a  similar  expedition, 
and  that  if  you  undertook  the  journey  at  all  he 
strongly  favoured  the  joining  of  the  two  parties." 

"  The  Jesuits  planning  a  similar  expedition  ! " 
exclaimed  Robert,  incredulously.  "  There  must 
be  some  mistake,  for  they  cannot  have  learned 
as  I  have  from  Piskaret  what  the  great  West 
contains.  That  would  be  too  great  a  coinci- 
dence to  be  believed." 

"  But  that  is  where  the  treachery  comes  in ! 
Don't  you  see  it  all  ?  M'sieur  Talon  hears 
about  your  plans  from  father,  makes  a  delay  so 
that  he  may  communicate  with  the  priests,  finds 
them  only  too  glad  to  take  advantage  of  the 
suggestion,  and  then  '  strongly  favours  joining 
the  two  expeditions,'  which  is  the  same  as  say- 
ing that  no  other  plan  will  receive  his  support. 
It  is  no  coincidence,  Robert ;  it  is  treachery 
through  and  through." 

[83] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

"  What  can  be  his  object  ?  He  bears  me  no 
enmity,  and  if  I  am  successful  it  will  reflect 
credit  upon  him,  as  upon  all  officials  of  the 
Crown." 

"  But  not  to  the  extent  it  would  if  the  expe- 
dition is  fitted  out  at  his  suggestion,  as  he  plans 
this  one  to  be  ;  and  more  than  this,  he  wishes 
no  success  to  come  to  the  Crown  save  through 
Jesuit  channels." 

"  Did  you  not  tell  me  that  the  present 
labours  of  the  fathers  here  in  Quebec  require 
every  priest  of  the  Order,  and  that  they  are 
calling  loudly  for  reinforcements  from  Paris  ? " 

"  Yes ;  and  it  is  true.  The  importance  of 
the  expedition  must  appeal  to  them  strongly 
when  they  forget  their  rivalry  and  their  jealousy 
enough  to  call  upon  the  Sulpitians  at  Montreal 
to  undertake  the  work." 

"  The  Seminary  priests  at  Montreal !  Do 
you  know  that  this  is  so  ? "  asked  Robert,  even 
more  astonished. 

"  Yes,  Dollier  de  Casson  has  just  arrived 
from  Montreal,  —  evidently  in  response  to  the 
Bishop's  message,  —  with  a  petition  similar  to 
yours,  and  I  am  sent  to  summon  you  to  attend 
the  Governor's  conference  at  once.  I  have  al- 
ready kept  you  over-long,  and  you  must  hasten. 
Don't  blame  father,  Robert ;  he  will  do  all  he 
can  for  you,  but  you  have  no  idea  of  the  in- 

[84] 


CONTENT    WITH    HALF    A    LOAF 

trigue  and  the  disloyalty  against  which  he  has 
to  strive." 

"  The  Sulpitians  from  Montreal ! "  repeated 
Robert  to  himself.  "Can  it  be  that  this  is  the 
first  step  in  the  fulfilment  of  the  Father  Supe- 
rior's threat  ? "  The  words  rang  clearly  in  his 
ears  as  if  he  were  again  in  Paris,  in  the  chapel 
of  the  House  of  the  Novices,  — 

"  Know  well  that  wherever  you  may  go,  be 
it  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  this  Order 
will  search  you  out  to  your  destruction ! " 

It  could  not  be ;  it  must  not  be !  When 
those  words  were  uttered  they  affected  him 
alone ;  now  they  also  concerned  the  woman  he 
loved,  thus  adding  to  his  determination  to  win 
in  spite  of  all.  He  raised  his  head  and  looked 
straight  into  the  eyes  of  the  girl  before  him. 

"  I  fear  me  this  means  trouble,  Anne ;  but 
this  I  know :  if  God  grants  to  spare  my  life, 
complications  may  postpone,  but  cannot  defeat 
my  object.  I  was  sure  of  that  before  I  came  to 
Quebec,  but  now,  with  your  faith  to  aid  me,  I 
am  doubly  sure  to  find  the  Vermilion  Sea,  and 
to  watch  in  its  reflection  the  sunrise  of  our 
hopes.  Will  you  trust  me,  Anne,  and  will  you 
wait  for  me  ?  It  may  be  years,  it  may  be  - 
faith,  your  patience  must  needs  last  long ! " 

Robert's  face  betrayed  the  strong  emotion 
within.  Anne  had  never  seen  him  look  like 

[85] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

this  before,  and  she  suffered  with  him.  Softly 
she  laid  both  her  hands  upon  his  shoulders  and 
watched  him  as  he  became  calm  under  the  influ- 
ence of  the  devotion  which  he  read  in  her  face. 

**  It  will  last  long,  Robert,"  she  said  quietly 
but  with  determination  in  her  voice,  —  "  it  will 
last  long ;  for  ever  if  it  must  be  so.  I  knew  not 
life  until  you  came  here  ;  I  had  no  hope,  no 
happiness,  beyond  that  little  line  which  marks 
our  horizon.  But  now  I  live  beyond  that  line, 
for  all  my  hopes  are. there.  Far  away  through 
those  forests  and  across  those  cataracts  I  believe 
with  you  there  lies  a  little  Kingdom  of  Content 
where  you  and  I  will  one  day  reign.  With  you 
my  King,  Robert,  and  I  your  Queen,  what 
matters  it  to  us  what  marks  the  limits  of  our 
empire,  or  where  it  lies  ?  " 

Robert  touched  his  lips  to  the  pale  face  so 
near  his  own. 

"  Ah,  Anne,  with  faith  like  yours,  kingdoms 
could  indeed  be  won  !  But,  come,  let  us  know 
the  worst.  M'sieur  the  Intendant  may  not  be 
so  base  a  traitor  as  you  paint  him  ! " 

Together  they  returned  to  the  chateau,  where 
Robert  left  Anne  and  entered  the  great  council- 
chamber,  dark  with  its  heavy  oaken  beams 
and  wainscoting  and  massive  furniture,  —  the 
most  ambitious  room  in  all  Quebec,  intended 
to  express  to  all  beholders  the  majesty  of  that 

[86] 


sovereign  whose  representatives  administered 
the  King's  justice  within. 

The  three  men  were  waiting  for  Robert's 
arrival,  engaged  in  earnest  examination  of  a 
carefully-constructed  map  which  lay  upon  the 
great  table  before  them.  Both  Talon  and 
Dollier  de  Casson  were  known  to  Robert  by 
sight,  but  this  was  his  first  opportunity  to 
study  them  closely.  The  personal  appearance 
of  the  Intendant  was  effeminate,  completely 
concealing  the  masculine  force  beneath.  His 
face  was  oval,  his  complexion  delicate,  and  a 
wealth  of  curls  fell  to  his  shoulders.  He 
formed  a  marked  contrast  to  the  rugged,  sol- 
dierly bearing  of  the  Governor  beside  him, 
and  Robert  readily  understood  how  poorly 
fitted  Courcelle  was  to  hold  his  own  at  Court 
against  this  clever  diplomat. 

Dollier  de  Casson  was  a  tall  man  with  a  com- 
manding presence.  He  had  been  an  officer  of 
cavalry  under  Turenne  before  coming  to  Mont- 
real, and  since  his  arrival  had  proved  his  bravery 
in  various  Indian  campaigns.  So  this  experi- 
enced soldier  was  to  be  his  rival,  —  to  be  the 
agent  of  the  Jesuits  to  rob  him  of  the  fruits  of 
his  long-cherished  aspirations  !  Robert's  mind 
was  filled  with  bitterness  as  he  entered  the 
council- chamber  and  awaited  the  Governor's 
invitation  to  join  the  group  about  the  table. 

[87] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

"  Approach,  Master  Cavelier,"  said  the  Gov- 
ernor, kindly ;  "  I  have  discussed  at  much 
length  with  M'sieur  the  Intendant  the  petition 
regarding  your  proposed  expedition,  and  have 
decided  to  grant  you  the  letters-patent  you 
desire." 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,"  said  Robert,  simply,  as  the 
Governor  paused  for  a  moment,  grateful  for  the 
evident  effort  which  the  old  man  was  making  to 
temper  the  disappointment  which  he  knew  was 
about  to  fall  upon  this  young  enthusiast  to 
whom  he  had  already  become  attached. 

"  In  order  to  add  strength  to  the  undertak- 
ing, however,"  continued  the  Governor,  "we  have 
deemed  it  wise  to  join  with  you  in  your  endeav- 
ours a  party  represented  by  Master  Dollier,  who 
comes  to  us  with  a  similar  request.  Master  Dol- 
lier has  had  much  experience  with  the  Indians, 
and  the  addition  of  his  party  will  make  your 
chances  of  success  the  stronger.  These  letters 
which  M'sieur  the  Intendant  will  hand  to  you 
will  commend  your  company  to  our  brother 
governors  within  whose  jurisdiction  you  may  go, 
and  Master  Dollier  will  bear  with  him  letters 
from  Father  Laval  to  any  Jesuit  you  may  meet. 
The  King  will  expect  much  of  you,  Master  Cave- 
lier, and  of  Master  Dollier,  and  our  good  wishes 
go  with  you." 

It  was  fortunate  that  Robert  had  been  pre- 
[88] 


CONTENT   WITH    HALF    A    LOAF 

pared  for  a  proposition  so  different  from  that 
which  he  had  originally  expected.  Surely  the 
hand  of  Fate  was  binding  strange  factors  to- 
gether, but  there  seemed  to  be  no  alternative. 
If  Robert  withdrew,  the  Jesuit  party  would  push 
on  without  him  ;  if  he  consented  to  the  plan,  he 
might  work  out  some  solution  of  the  difficulty. 
Submission,  apparent  at  least,  was  all  that  re- 
mained to  him,  and  he  determined  to  play  the 
game  with  all  his  skill. 

"  I  can  but  accept  your  judgment,  sir,  as  for 
the  best.  I  know  Master  Dollier  for  a  brave 
man,  and  I  shall  value  his  co-operation.  I  trust, 
however,  that  Master  Dollier  will  accept  the 
plans  upon  which  I  have  laboured  for  the  past 
three  years,  as  I  have  reason  to  believe  them  to 
be  correct." 

"  In  so  far  as  they  accord  with  mine  own  judg- 
ment, Master  Cavelier,"  responded  Dollier,  with 
a  stiff  bow. 

Robert  bit  his  lip  to  keep  back  the  angry 
wrords  which  struggled  for  utterance.  The  com- 
bination was  indeed  impossible,  but  it  was  none 
the  less  inevitable.  Robert  would  start  with 
them,  for  this  was  commanded,  but  not  Dollier 
nor  the  Governor  nor  Talon  himself  should  pre- 
vent him  from  breaking  away  from  them  at  the 
earliest  opportunity,  and  then  he  would  push  on 
without  help  or  hindrance. 

[89] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

The  Governor  signified  with  a  wave  of  the 
hand  that  the  conference  was  at  an  end. 
Robert  was  glad  to  escape  from  the  overpower- 
ing atmosphere  of  the  room  into  the  open  air, 
which  calmed  his  conflicting  emotions.  Anne 
was  anxiously  waiting  for  him  in  the  garden, 
and  ran  to  meet  him  as  he  approached. 

"  You  are  smiling,  Robert,"  she  cried,  her 
face  lighting  up  with  pleasure  ;  "  I  was  wrong 
in  thinking  that  M'sieur  Talon  would  try  to 
thwart  you." 

"  Nay,  sweet  Mistress  Anne,  you  were  but 
too  correct  in  your  suspicions.  It  is  all  as 
you  surmised.  The  Governor,  your  father,  has 
granted  me  letters-patent  for  my  expedition  as 
I  besought,  but  with  Master  Dollier  affixed 
thereto  as  a  seal.  In  faith,  methinks  I  '11  break 
the  seal  when  opportunity  permits,  and  read  my 
letters  with  myself  alone  for  company  ! " 

Robert's  buoyancy  was  contagious,  but  it  did 
not  conceal  from  Anne  the  real  suffering  which 
lay  beneath  the  careless  speech  with  which  he 
greeted  her. 

"  My  brave  Robert,"  she  exclaimed  admir- 
ingly, "  my  heart  rejoices  that  your  spirit  is  so 
strong.  Success  will  mean  the  more  to  you 
and  to  me  because  you  are  able  to  surmount  the 
obstacles.  Was  it  decided  when  the  expedition 
is  to  start  ?  " 

[90] 


CONTENT    WITH    HALF   A   LOAF 

"  Not  definitely,  but  T  must  leave  for  Montreal 
at  once.  When  you  see  the  moon  rise  over  the 
St.  Lawrence  to-night,  dear  Anne,  listen  for  the 
paddle-beats  far  up  the  river.  I  and  my  Indian 
will  ply  the  blades  as  never  before,  since  that 
frail  canoe  takes  me  nearer  to  the  realisation 
of  my  hopes.  To-night  I  must  leave  you. 
When  shall  I  see  you  again  ? " 

"  Oh,  Robert,  how  can  I  let  you  go !  I 
know  not  nor  do  you  into  what  dangers  you 
will  run.  How  know  I  that  you  will  ever 
come  to  me  again  ? " 

"Can  you  doubt,  dear  heart ?  That  kind 
fate  which  has  lessened  my  disappointment  by 
giving  you  to  me  could  not  be  so  cruel  as  to 
separate  us  thus.  You  are  right  in  saying  that 
I  know  not  into  what  dangers  I  may  run  ;  you 
are  right  in  wondering  when  the  time  will  come 
again  for  me  to  gaze  into  your  eyes  and  see 
there  all  that  the  world  holds  dear  for  me  ;  but 
you  are  wrong  if  in  your  heart  there  rests  one 
doubt  that  that  sweet  time  will  not  surely  come. 
This  certainty  will  guide  my  footsteps  in  safe 
courses,  and  will  bring  me  back  to  you." 

"  God  grant  it,  Robert !  You  have  taught  me 
happiness  ;  now  you  must  teach  me  strength  ! " 

Dusk  had  hardly  settled  over  the  landscape 
when  a  small  canoe  containing  two  men  shot 

[91] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

out  under  the  Rock  of  Quebec  and  into  the 
river.  In  the  swarthy  visage  at  the  bow  one 
could  note  no  change  in  expression  over  that 
which  it  had  worn  a  month  before,  when  the 
canoe  had  first  been  beached  at  Quebec ;  but 
in  the  face  of  the  other,  looking  back  at  the 
dimly  outlined  figure  high  above  him,  was  to 
be  seen  more  than  determination,  more  than 
confidence,  more  than  courage.  One  might 
have  discovered  there  the  three  combined, 
made  strong  and  beautiful  by  the  love-light 
which  illumined  from  within. 


[92] 


CfTAPTJSRVII 

ANATTEMPT 

IS-MADE 

TO  MIX 

OIL  AND/WATER 


HE  MORNING  OF  JULY 

6,  1669,  proved  dark  and  dis- 
mal, and  the  nature  of  the 
elements  was  reflected  in  the 
aspect  of  the  small  company 
of  twenty-four  men  who  em- 
barked in  their  seven  canoes 
from  the  shore  of  Robert  Cavelier's  seigniory  at 
La  Chine.  It  was  evident  that  the  Sulpitians 
had  been  enlisted  with  little  previous  knowledge 
and  with  less  preparation,  as  Dollier  de  Casson 
was  the  only  one  amongst  them  all  who  wore 
even  a  semblance  of  enthusiasm.  Piskaret  was 
expressionless,  as  always,  and  Robert  was  biding 
his  time.  He  had  too  much  in  his  mind  at  this 
moment  to  do  more  than  make  sure  that  the 
canoes  contained  the  ill-sorted  company  whose 
services  he  had  been  able  to  purchase,  —  a  sad 
contrast  to  the  "  bold  and  intrepid  spirits  "  his 
imagination  had  pictured,  —  and  the  meagre  sup- 
plies with  which  the  expedition  was  equipped. 
His  way  was  clearing  before  him.  It  might 

[93] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

not  come  to-day  nor  to-morrow,  but  in  the  time 
which  had  elapsed  since  he  had  returned  from 
Quebec  he  had  learned  how  little  discipline 
Dollier  had  been  able  to  introduce  into  his  half 
of  the  company.  It  would  not  take  much  to 
persuade  them  at  some  point  that  their  efforts 
could  be  better  directed  in  some  other  direction 
than  in  trying  to  discover  new  countries. 

This  was  his  hope,  also  coupled  with  a  doubt : 
could  he  be  more  successful  than  Dollier  in 
holding  his  own  company  together  ?  Of  Pis- 
karet  he  was  as  sure  as  of  himself,  but  the  other 
men  were  mere  adventurers,  —  the  scum  of  the 
settlement,  —  useful  in  case  of  encounters  with 
the  Indians,  but  absolutely  untrustworthy  unless 
it  suited  their  fancy  to  be  loyal  to  the  man  in 
whose  pay  they  were.  Still,  if  worst  came  to 
worst,  Robert  argued  to  himself,  he  and  Pis- 
karet  alone  would  plunge  on  and  take  their 
chances  of  discovering  the  great  Ohio  and  the 
passage  to  the  Southern  Sea. 

The  little  flotilla  was  led  by  two  canoes  filled 
with  Seneca  Indians  who  were  returning  to 
their  homes.  Day  after  day  passed  with 
nothing  to  break  the  monotony,  the  men  pad- 
dling or  carrying  their  canoes  until  darkness 
fell,  and  then  bivouacking  upon  the  shores. 
The  food  consisted  almost  wholly  of  Indian 
corn,  which  the  men  crushed  between  stones 

[94] 


MIXING    OIL    AND    WATER 

and  boiled  with  meat  or  fish  for  seasoning  when 
either  could  be  obtained.  Life  at  Montreal, 
with  all  its  vicissitudes,  had  never  been  so  severe 
as  this,  and  when  Lake  Ontario  was  reached  on 
the  second  of  August,  Robert,  Dollier,  and  Pis- 
karet  were  the  only  members  of  the  combined 
company  who  did  not  suffer  from  some  malady 
or  other.  The  priests  suffered  even  more  than 
the  others,  as  they  were  forced  to  listen  to  the 
unrestrained  cursing  of  Robert's  men,  who 
spared  no  words  in  expressing  their  disgust  with 
affairs  in  general  and  with  the  priests  in  par- 
ticular, to  whose  presence  they  insisted  on  attrib- 
uting their  misfortunes. 

In  spite  of  this,  however,  Robert  and  Dollier 
still  possessed  sufficient  control  over  their  fol- 
lowers to  persuade  them  to  continue  their  expe- 
dition ;  and  on  they  pushed,  with  sufferings  and 
privations  increasing  as  they  advanced,  until 
seven  days  later  Irondequoit  Bay  lay  before 
them.  Here  they  met  a  party  of  Seneca  In- 
dians who  came  to  meet  their  returning  brothers, 
and  who  gave  many  evidences  of  friendship. 
They  invited  the  white  men  to  visit  their  vil- 
lages, some  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  distant,  and 
Piskaret  strongly  urged  Robert  to  accept  this 
invitation,  as  it  was  in  a  direct  line  to  the  upper 
waters  of  the  Ohio,  and  guides  might  be  found 
there  to  conduct  them  further  along  their  jour- 

[95] 


ROBERT    CAVEL1ER 

ney.  The  priests  and  the  men  stoutly  refused 
to  make  this  apparent  departure  from  their 
route,  but  Robert  prevailed  upon  Dollier  to 
guard  the  canoes  and  stores  while  he  and 
Piskaret,  accompanied  by  the  entire  band  of 
Indians,  set  out  at  daybreak  for  the  principal 
village  of  the  Senecas. 

Before  evening  their  destination  was  reached, 
and  Robert  saw  before  him  a  rude  stockade 
completely  surrounding  perhaps  a  hundred  and 
fifty  small,  filthy  bark  huts  which  made  up  the 
village.  The  strangers  were  received  by  a 
band  of  old  men  seated  upon  the  grass,  the 
oldest  and  feeblest  of  whom  received  them 
with  a  long  discourse.  When  once  within  the 
enclosure,  they  found  themselves  surrounded 
by  a  crowd  of  curious  savages,  many  of  whom 
had  never  before  seen  a  living  white  man.  The 
largest  of  the  bark  huts  was  hospitably  set  aside 
for  Robert  and  Piskaret,  and  here  they  received 
new  evidences  of  apparent  good-will.  Children 
brought  in  pumpkins  and  berries,  and  feasts 
were  provided  at  which  the  visitors  were  sumptu- 
ously regaled  upon  dog-flesh  and  maize. 

Robert  was  greatly  interested  in  the  novelty 
of  their  reception,  and  felt  much  encouraged  by 
the  many  tokens  of  friendship  ;  but  Piskaret  was 
wary.  Robert  was  not  "  Onontio,"  he  argued, 
yet  the  Indians  were  lavishing  upon  him  all  the 

[96] 


MIXING    OIL   AND    WATER 

favours  in  their  power.  Piskaret  was  an  Indian 
himself,  and  he  knew  well  that  a  purpose  lay 
behind  the  unusual  efforts  made  by  the  savages  ; 
so  both  he  and  Robert  were  on  their  guard 
against  sudden  treachery. 

In  the  meantime  darkness  had  settled  over 
the  village,  relieved  only  by  the  glare  of  the 
great  fires  which  the  savages  had  built  in  the 
open  enclosure  around  which  the  rude  huts  were 
erected.  Preparations  were  evidently  on  foot 
for  some  great  ceremony,  for  the  whole  tribe  - 
men,  women,  and  children  —  were  gliding  about 
like  spectral  demons,  placing  fagots  near  the 
blazing  fires,  filling  various  dishes  and  cooking 
utensils  with  water,  and  breaking  the  stillness 
of  the  night  with  their  guttural  cries  of  excite- 
ment. Robert  and  Piskaret  watched  every 
movement,  but  to  the  white  man  observation 
brought  no  enlightenment. 

"What  means  all  this  mysterious  prepara- 
tion ? "  demanded  Robert  of  his  silent  com- 
panion. 

"  It  is  the  «  Ononhara,'  the  *  Dream  Feast,' " 
answered  Piskaret ;  "  they  will  cast  out  the  evil 
spirits  from  the  village." 

"  Perchance  this  may  include  us,"  suggested 
Robert. 

Before  Piskaret  could  answer  the  festival  be- 
gan.   Every  living  being  in  the  village  save  the 
i  [97] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

visitors  seemed  seized  with  a  sudden  madness. 
Hither  and  thither  they  rushed,  shrieking  and 
giving  unearthly  howls,  lighting  the  fagots  and 
throwing  the  burning  brands  in  every  direction, 
upsetting  everything  that  came  in  their  way, 
striking  their  friends  and  neighbours,  or  drench- 
ing them  with  water.  Every  license  seemed 
granted  for  the  time  being,  and  not  a  few  of  the 
revelers  took  advantage  of  the  opportunity  to 
satisfy  personal  rivalries  and  enmities. 

Suddenly  the  scene  changed.  Some  of  the 
pretended  madmen  directed  their  footsteps 
from  hut  to  hut,  calling  each  owner  by  name 
and  demanding  from  him  some  secret  object, 
the  want  of  which  had  been  revealed  in  a 
dream.  The  person  to  whom  the  demand  was 
addressed  immediately  threw  at  the  applicant 
any  object  which  chanced  to  be  near  at  hand,  — 
a  pipe,  a  kettle,  a  tomahawk,  —  and  this  proced- 
ure continued  until  at  last  the  desired  object 
was  obtained.  A  cry  of  delight  announced  this 
fact,  and  the  recipient  dropped  out  of  the  pro- 
cession. Those  who  failed  to  receive  the  objects 
of  their  dreams  became  much  dejected,  as  this 
was  a  warning  that  misfortune  was  near  at 
hand. 

How  long  the  festival  would  have  continued 
but  for  an  interruption,  Robert  never  knew. 
Of  a  sudden  the  noise  ceased,  the  feigned  mad- 

[98] 


MIXING    OIL    AND    WATER 

ness  was  thrown  aside,  and  the  savages  rushed 
to  the  entrance  of  the  stockade  to  welcome  a 
returning  war-party.  Silently  the  newcomers 
entered  the  enclosure,  bringing  with  them  a 
number  of  prisoners,  who  were  received  with 
evidences  of  great  delight.  The  warriors  seated 
themselves  on  the  grass  around  the  fires,  and 
the  prisoners  were  led  away  to  an  adjoining 
hut. 

Soon  two  Senecas  appeared  bearing  between 
them  a  heavy  post,  which  was  set  up  near  the 
largest  of  the  fires.  The  entire  tribe  gathered 
about  to  witness  the  proceedings.  Robert  and 
Piskaret  were  apparently  forgotten,  but  no 
movement  escaped  their  eager  gaze. 

"  Burn  prisoner  ! "  exclaimed  Piskaret. 

Presently  the  two  Indians  who  had  erected 
the  post  again  appeared,  leading  a  stalwart 
brave  whose  arms  were  tied  behind  him.  The 
savages  about  the  fire  gave  a  fierce  cry  of  de- 
light as  the  prisoner  was  quickly  bound  to  the 
stake,  and  the  fagots  piled  up  at  his  feet.  The 
face  of  the  victim  was  perfectly  passive,  and  he 
accepted  the  situation  with  apparent  indiffer- 
ence. The  squaws  and  the  children  crowded 
about  him  to  watch  his  contortions  as  the  tor- 
tures progressed.  His  hands  were  now  freed, 
and  he  instantly  raised  them  in  an  attitude  of 
prayer. 

[99] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

"  A  Christian  Indian  !  "  whispered  Robert  to 
Piskaret.  "  Will  they  dare  to  burn  him  ?  " 

"  They  burn  us  next ! "  answered  Piskaret. 
"  No  friendship  Indians  when  Christians  burn. 
Come ! " 

Piskaret  led  the  way  stealthily  from  the  en- 
trance of  the  hut  into  the  gloom  beyond  the 
light  shed  by  the  ever-increasing  flames.  Little 
by  little  they  worked  their  way  around  the 
crowd  of  Indians,  who  were  now  intently  en- 
grossed in  the  spectacle  before  them,  until  they 
nearly  reached  the  entrance  to  the  stockade. 
Here  they  paused,  crouched  in  the  underbrush, 
as  two  savages  were  standing  between  them  and 
the  opening  beyond. 

By  this  time  the  wood  around  the  prisoner 
was  lighted  and  the  flames  scorched  his  naked 
body.  Not  a  muscle  moved,  and  his  eyes  met 
those  of  his  persecutors  fearlessly.  The  crowd 
yelled  with  delight.  Here  was  no  white-heart 
who  would  die  easily,  —  there  was  rare  sport 
ahead.  The  flames  mounted  high  and  would 
end  the  agony  too  soon,  so  water  was  dashed 
upon  the  fire  that  the  entertainment  might  be 
prolonged.  Part  of  the  water  splashed  over  the 
victim,  and  wetting  his  hand  he  reached  over 
and  baptised  a  child  standing  near,  who  shrank 
from  his  touch  as  if  he  had  been  a  leper.  This 
was  a  suggestion  for  a  new  torture.  A  kettle 

[100] 


MIXING    OIL    AND    WATER 

was  quickly  swung  across  the  fire,  and  water 
heated  until  it  boiled.  Then  it  was  slowly 
poured  over  the  head  and  shoulders  of  the 
prisoner. 

"  We  baptise  you,"  they  shouted,  "  that  you 
may  be  happy  in  Heaven.  Your  fathers  tell  us 
that  the  more  one  suffers  on  earth,  the  happier 
he  is  in  Heaven.  We  wish  to  make  you  happy, 
and  we  torture  you  because  we  love  you  ! " 

Three  tomahawks  had  meanwhile  been  heated 
red-hot  in  the  embers,  and  these  were  slung 
about  the  victim's  neck  as  a  collar  ;  but  he  met 
his  tormentors  with  the  same  unflinching  gaze. 
He  showed  no  sign  of  collapse  other  than  an  in- 
creasing weakness.  The  savages  grew  impatient. 
One  threw  a  tomahawk  with  such  unerring  aim 
that  it  carried  with  it  the  prisoner's  right  ear  ; 
but  the  next  trial  was  less  accurate.  Instead  of 
just  grazing  his  head  the  sharp  blade  buried 
itself  in  the  prisoner's  skull,  and  his  agonies 
were  over.  This  mishap  was  greeted  with  a 
yell  of  rage,  but  it  did  not  prevent  a  rush  and  a 
general  fight  among  the  strongest  of  the  specta- 
tors to  secure  the  victim's  scalp,  and  to  tear  out 
his  heart  to  be  eaten,  that  its  courage  might  be 
imparted  to  the  victors. 

The  untimely  ending  of  their  entertainment 
left  their  savage  appetite  unsatisfied,  and  they 
looked  about  them  to  find  new  excitement. 

[101] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

"  The  white  man  !  The  white  man  !  "  the 
shout  was  raised,  and  with  a  common  impulse 
a  rush  was  made  for  the  hut  where  Robert  and 
Piskaret  had  been  but  a  few  moments  before. 

"  Come,  quick  ! "  whispered  Piskaret,  when 
he  saw  the  new  turn  of  affairs. 

With  a  single  bound  the  two  men  were  at 
the  throats  of  the  guards  at  the  entrance  of 
the  stockade.  Robert  buried  his  hatchet  in  the 
brain  of  one,  while  Piskaret  strangled  the  second 
almost  before  the  attack  was  realised.  Out 
into  the  darkness  they  struck,  knowing  how 
much  even  this  slight  start  would  mean  to 
them.  Robert  kept  closely  behind  the  clever 
Indian,  who  led  the  way  through  the  tangled 
underbrush  as  if  it  had  been  daylight,  but  soon 
they  heard  hideous  howls  of  rage  as  their  escape 
was  discovered  and  the  dead  bodies  of  the  guards 
were  found.  Piskaret  was  setting  a  pace  which 
Robert  could  hardly  match,  but  it  was  life  or 
death,  and  he  redoubled  his  efforts.  On,  on 
they  pushed,  Piskaret  doubling  on  his  trail, 
climbing  over  rocks,  dodging  behind  trees, 
wading  through  brooks,  with  his  eye  ever  on 
his  furious  pursuers,  and  also  upon  Robert  to 
make  sure  that  he  did  not  become  separated 
from  his  friend. 

Piskaret 's  skill  in  woodcraft  served  them  both 
in  good  stead  now,  and  at  length  the  fugitives 

[102] 


MIXING    OIL    AND    WATER 

succeeded  in  eluding  their  pursuers.  Both 
Robert  and  Piskaret  were  glad  enough  of  an 
opportunity  to  throw  themselves  upon  the 
ground  for  a  half-hour's  rest  before  continuing 
their  tramp  back  to  Dollier  and  the  party 
which  remained  behind  with  the  canoes  and  the 
stores.  Their  arrival  filled  the  priests  and  the 
men  with  intense  alarm,  as  they  feared  an  im- 
mediate attack  ;  but  as  no  evidences  of  this  were 
forthcoming,  their  apprehensions  gradually  sub- 
sided, and  they  listened  to  Robert's  story  with 
fierce  indignation.  The  priests  rejoiced  in  the 
martyrdom  of  the  convert,  but  the  men  thirsted 
for  revenge. 

Robert's  hope  of  securing  a  guide  from  the 
Senecas  had  been  rudely  destroyed,  but  he 
persuaded  Dollier  to  continue  the  expedition 
along  the  route  originally  selected.  Again  the 
birch  canoes  were  pushed  into  the  waters  of 
Lake  Ontario,  and  again  the  little  company 
went  forward  in  its  search  for  empire.  Along 
the  southern  shore  of  the  lake  they  skirted,  past 
the  mouth  of  the  Niagara,  where  their  ears 
were  greeted  with  the  dull  roar  of  the  distant 
cataract,  until  late  in  September  they  reached 
the  Iroquois  colony  at  Otinawatawa,  where 
they  were  hospitably  received  by  the  natives. 

It  was  necessary  to  remain  here  a  few  days 
for  the  sick  to  recover  and  to  replenish  the 

[103] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

stores,  and  Robert  did  not  fail  to  improve  his 
opportunity  to  learn  from  his  hosts  all  that  they 
knew  of  the  distant  Ohio.  He  was  told  fas- 
cinating tales  of  the  beautiful  river,  perhaps  six 
weeks'  journey  distant,  which  would  reward 
his  labours  and  crown  his  undertaking  with 
success. 

Filled  with  renewed  enthusiasm,  Robert  has- 
tened his  preparations  for  departure,  and  the 
party  was  about  to  set  out  when  news  came 
of  a  most  surprising  nature.  It  was  reported 
that  a  Frenchman  had  arrived  at  a  neighbouring 
village  from  the  opposite  direction,  returning 
from  an  expedition  of  western  discovery. 

Robert's  jealousy  was  at  once  aroused,  and 
his  heart  was  filled  with  misgivings.  Had 
he,  after  all  his  plans,  been  forestalled  in  the 
gratification  of  his  ambitions  ?  Who  was  this 
stranger,  and  what  part  of  the  western  country 
had  he  traversed  ?  He  could  not  endure  the 
suspense,  so  within  an  hour  from  the  time  he 
received  the  news,  he,  with  Piskaret,  was  on  his 
way  to  interview  the  newcomer. 

In  spite  of  his  jealousies  Robert  could  not 
meet  a  fellow  Frenchman  in  the  heart  of  this 
wilderness  without  a  feeling  of  brotherhood  and 
sympathy,  and  the  greetings  exchanged  between 
the  two  men  at  the  entrance  to  the  stranger's 
hut,  even  though  they  were  entirely  unknown 

["104  ] 


to  each  other,  was  a  cordial  one.  The  supposed 
rival  proved  to  be  Louis  Joliet,  and  Robert  was 
delighted  to  learn  that  the  stranger  had  not 
visited  the  Golden  Country  which  he  had 
sworn  should  welcome  the  tread  of  his  foot 
before  that  of  any  other  white  man,  but  was 
returning  from  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  dis- 
cover and  explore  the  copper  mines  of  Lake 
Superior. 

Joliet  was  a  young  man  of  about  the  same 
age  as  Robert,  and  after  the  first  suspicions 
were  removed  the  two  found  themselves  much 
in  sympathy.  The  same  adventurous  blood  ran 
in  the  veins  of  both,  the  same  disregard  of  dan- 
gers and  privations,  and  the  same  indomitable 
strength  of  purpose  guided  their  lives.  Joliet 
was  able  to  give  Robert  valuable  information 
gained  during  his  own  expedition,  and  he  was 
much  interested  in  Robert's  plans,  which  the 
latter  unfolded  without  reserve.  Robert  urged 
Joliet  to  join  him,  but  that  was  impossible,  as 
Talon  required  his  return  within  a  specified 
period ;  but  Robert's  new  friend  offered  to  aid 
him  by  giving  him  a  trustworthy  Indian  to  act 
as  guide.  This  was  good  fortune  indeed,  and 
Robert  gratefully  accepted  the  offer. 

More  than  that,  Joliet  offered  to  assist  Robert 
in  hastening  the  break  with  the  Sulpitians, 
returning  with  him  to  Dollier  and  the  forlorn 
[105] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

priests.  He  was  received  eagerly  by  the  down- 
hearted fathers,  who  were  thoroughly  discour- 
aged and  almost  rebellious.  Joliet  showed 
them  a  map  which  he  had  made  of  such  parts 
of  the  Upper  Lakes  as  he  had  visited  ;  and  he 
told  them  at  the  same  time  of  the  Potta- 
wattamies  and  other  tribes  in  that  region  who 
were  in  grievous  need  of  spiritual  instruction. 
This  was  more  to  the  priests'  liking.  They 
were  ready  to  endure  privation  and  to  subject 
themselves  to  danger  in  the  battle  for  souls,  but 
were  far  less  enthusiastic  in  battling  for  empire. 
Their  duty  had  been  providentially  laid  before 
them,  and  they  urged  upon  Dollier  the  necessity 
of  changing  their  route  so  that  light  might  be 
shed  upon  the  heathen. 

Robert  was  rejoiced  at  the  turn  which  affairs 
had  taken,  but  feigned  opposition,  knowing  well 
that  this  would  fan  the  smouldering  fire  into 
flames.  Up  to  this  point  he  had  apparently 
taken  little  interest  in  what  the  stranger  had  to 
say,  but  as  soon  as  he  felt  that  Dollier  had  suffi- 
ciently committed  himself,  he  lost  not  a  moment 
in  widening  the  breach.  Watching  his  oppor- 
tunity, Robert  intercepted  Dollier  as  he  was 
returning  from  the  shore  to  his  tent. 

"  A  word  with  you,  Master  Dollier,"  said 
Robert,  affably. 

"  Well  ? "  was  the  interrogative  reply. 
[106] 


MIXING    OIL    AND    WATER 

"  Surely  you  are  not  considering  seriously 
these  tales  which  Master  Joliet  has  told  us  ? " 

"  I  am  considering  them,  certainly,  but  my 
determination  has  not  yet  been  made." 

Robert  grew  earnest  at  once.  He  was  silent 
a  moment,  as  if  considering  his  words.  When 
he  spoke  it  was  with  unusual  deference,  which 
threw  Dollier  completely  off  his  guard. 

"  Master  Dollier,  you  and  I  have  received 
commissions  jointly  to  control  this  expedition. 
You  are  a  soldier,  older  than  I  in  the  experience 
of  the  service,  yet  I  have  served  sufficient  time 
to  know  that  the  orders  of  our  superiors  cannot 
be  lightly  disregarded.  You  and  I  left  Quebec 
with  a  definite  purpose  and  under  definite  in- 
structions from  the  Crown,  and  I  grieve  to  see 
you  influenced  by  the  disloyal  desires  of  a 
portion  of  our  company." 

The  words  were  bitter  ones  for  Dollier  to 
accept,  but  they  were  spoken  with  so  much 
evidence  of  friendliness  that  the  older  man  held 
back  the  hot  reply. 

"  Our  duty  is  to  our  spiritual  Father  first  of 
all,  Master  Cavelier,  rather  than  to  our  earthly 
rulers,"  he  said  loftily. 

"  But  this   is  not  a  religious   undertaking," 

replied   Robert,  beginning   to   assume   a  more 

determined   attitude,    "  and   even   were   it   so, 

't  would  be  a  reckless  thing  for  us  to  invade  that 

[  107  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

territory  which  the  Jesuits  from  Quebec  have 
already  visited  and  which  they  claim  as  their 
own." 

Robert  could  not  have  touched  upon  a  more 
sensitive  spot  in  the  heart  of  the  Sulpitian. 
The  ever-increasing  jealousy  of  the  weaker  for 
the  stronger  branch  of  the  Order  at  once  sprang 
into  the  foreground,  and  Dollier's  caution  van- 
ished. His  face  was  flushed  with  excitement. 

"  Think  you,  Master  Cavelier,"  he  replied 
hotly,  "that  the  Sulpitians  will  forever  accept 
as  the  field  of  their  labours  the  vineyards  dis- 
carded or  overlooked  by  their  brothers  at 
Quebec  ?  Shall  we  forever  stand  idly  by  and 
watch  them  reap  the  harvest  and  the  honour, 
satisfying  ourselves  with  the  chaff  which  they 
leave  for  the  wind  to  blow  whither  it  will  ? 
Not  so !  My  determination  is  fixed,  and  to- 
morrow morning  we  take  the  path  to  which  the 
hand  of  duty  points." 

"  Then  you  and  the  priests  will  go  alone  ! 
My  duty  lies  to  the  westward,  and  I  will  not  be 
turned  from  it.  If  you  choose  not  to  follow 
the  orders  under  which  we  started  out,  that 
is  your  affair.  I  shall  remain  loyal  to  the 
Crown ! " 

"  T  is  not  a  question  of  loyalty,  sir,"  said 
Dollier,  stung  by  Robert's  imputation  ;  "  't  is  a 
matter  of  judgment.  Were  I  satisfied  that  this 

[108] 


MIXING    OIL    AND    WATER 

route  which  I  propose  would  not  lead  me  to 
the  same  destination,  I  might  reconsider  my 
determination ;  but  I  have  no  question  that 
the  route  to  the  north,  which  takes  us  through 
the  country  of  which  Master  Joliet  tells  us,  is  a 
more  certain  path  to  our  goal." 

"  Be  it  so,  Master  Dollier ! "  replied  Robert, 
with  decision.  "  This  is  the  rock  on  which  we 
split.  The  Governor  shall  pass  upon  our  inter- 
pretation when  we  return." 

The  priests  were  gratified  by  Dollier's  de- 
cision, but  the  men  of  Robert's  party  looked 
upon  the  plan  with  absolute  disgust.  Their 
experiences  thus  far  had  been  distasteful  enough, 
but  the  thought  of  becoming  parties  to  the 
religious  work  of  the  fathers  was  one  which 
they  would  not  consider  for  a  moment.  Had 
the  plan  contemplated  a  return  to  Montreal, 
Robert  would  have  found  himself  wholly 
deserted,  but  as  a  choice  between  two  evils  they 
stuck  to  their  leader  as  firmly  as  the  priests 
supported  Dollier. 

Here  was  the  crisis  to  which  Robert  had  so 
long  looked  forward.  He  watched  the  depart- 
ure of  the  Sulpitian  portion  of  his  company 
upon  the  following  day  with  the  utmost  joy, 
and  as  soon  as  they  were  out  of  hearing  he 
turned  gratefully  to  his  new-found  friend. 

"  You  have  aided  me  manfully,  Master  Joliet, 
[109] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

and  I  only  regret  that  you  cannot  join  me  in 
my  expedition.  Were  you  and  I  together,  I 
believe  that  all  the  denizens  of  this  untamed 
wilderness,  beasts  or  men,  could  not  turn  us 
back ! " 

"  I  would  I  might  be  with  you,  Master 
Cavelier,"  replied  Joliet ;  "  my  heart  yearns  for 
further  adventure  rather  than  to  return  tamely 
to  Quebec  and  announce  the  failure  of  my 
work.  But  on  one  point  I  would  warn  you  :  I 
like  not  the  appearance  of  your  men,  and  I  fear 
more  for  your  safety  in  their  hands  than  for  the 
dangers  of  the  journey.  Watch  them  well, 
Master  Cavelier,  and  make  them  fear  you,  for 
treachery  from  behind  is  a  most  dreaded  foe." 

"  I  thank  you,  Master  Joliet,  for  your  good 
advice,  and  I  will  heed  it  well.  They  are  but 
worthless  cut-throats,  yet  I  must  needs  take 
these  or  none  at  all.  I  will  be  watchful,  but 
I  fear  them  not.  And  now,  before  you  go,  I 
have  another  favour  which  I  would  ask  of  you 
in  the  name  of  friendship." 

Joliet  looked  at  Robert  in  surprise,  seeing  him 
hesitate  and  his  face  change  colour.  Robert 
recovered  himself  in  a  moment,  and  held  out 
his  hand  impulsively. 

"  Master  Joliet,  in  Quebec,  whither  you  are 
now  returning,  within  the  Governor's  chateau 
there  is  the  fairest  maid  in  all  New  France. 
[110] 


MIXING    OIL    AND    WATER 

She  is  Mistress  Anne  Courcelle,  and  when  I 
left  upon  this  undertaking  she  bade  me  God- 
speed and  a  safe  return,  that  I  might  claim  her 
as  my  wife.  Will  you  not  seek  her  out,  my 
friend,  and  tell  her  that  you  left  me  well 
and  hopeful,  and  that  my  love  for  her  abides 
forever  ? " 

"  That  I  will,  friend  Cavelier,"  replied  Joliet, 
heartily.  "  I  will  surely  find  her  and  give  her 
tidings  of  you.  I  thank  you  for  this  oppor- 
tunity to  serve  you  with  a  commission  so 
agreeable." 

With  a  warm  embrace  the  two  friends 
parted.  Robert  watched  the  retreating  figure 
until  Joliet  had  vanished  in  the  distance.  For 
several  moments  he  stood  there  in  silence,  still 
looking  in  the  same  direction,  as  if  unconscious 
that  his  friend  had  passed  beyond  his  sight. 

What  emotions  filled  his  heart  ?  A  yearning 
to  return  even  to  rude  civilisation  and  its  attend- 
ing comforts  ?  Surely  not.  The  sturdy  spirit 
of  Robert  Cavelier  longed  not  for  comforts,  and 
the  unbroken  path  into  the  wilderness  offered 
far  greater  attractions  than  that  which  led  back 
to  the  settlement.  But  this  same  spirit,  could 
it  have  expressed  its  longing  in  words,  would 
have  told  of  a  fair,  smiling  face  which  looked 
out  from  its  wealth  of  chestnut  curls,  and  a 
slender  figure  which  had  waved  good-bye  to  the 
[111] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

youthful  but  courageous  explorer  from  the 
Rock  of  Quebec,  as  his  canoe  shot  out  into  the 
river  one  summer's  night  now  passed  long  since. 
It  would  have  recalled  those  words  which  were 
ever  with  him :  "It  will  last  long,  Robert ;  for- 
ever if  it  must  be  so."  It  would  have  told  of  a 
longing,  but  also  of  a  satisfied  happiness ;  of 
a  loneliness,  but  of  an  inspired  certainty ;  of  a 
fearfulness,  but  of  a  renewed  determination. 

Before  long,  however,  Robert  was  brought 
back  to  the  realities  confronting  him.  It  was 
Piskaret  who  disturbed  his  reveries. 

"  The  coyote  and  the  bear  lie  not  down 
together,"  said  the  red  man,  significantly ; 
"the  coyote  will  bite  the  heels  of  the  bear 
no  longer." 

Robert  smiled  at  the  simile. 

"  Right  you  are,  my  Piskaret,"  he  answered, 
his  spirits  rising  as  he  realised  that  he  was  at 
last  rid  of  his  unpleasant  companions  ;  "  the 
bear  is  now  free  to  hunt  his  own  quarry,  and  in 
his  own  way.  Where  are  the  men  now  ?  " 

"  Talking  together  beyond  the  big  fire.  Bad 
men,  —  worse  than  priests,  worse  than  Indians." 
Piskaret  was  unusually  communicative. 

"  I  know  it  all  too  well,"  replied  Robert,  \vith 

a  sigh ;  "  perhaps  my  troubles  have   but  just 

begun.     We  know  our  danger,  at  all  events, 

and  will  guard  against  surprise,  but  after  that 

[112] 


MIXING    OIL    AND    WATER 

we  have  no  other  choice  than  to  let  these 
villains  do  their  worst." 

Silently  they  returned  to  the  camp.  The 
men  ceased  talking  instantly  upon  Robert's 
approach,  and  moved  about  in  surly  fashion, 
endeavouring  to  hide  for  the  time  being  their 
all  too  evident  hostility.  Robert  appeared  to 
take  no  notice  of  their  .rebellious  attitude,  and 
ordered  preparations  to  be  made  for  the  meagre 
midday  meal.  After  this  he  called  his  men 
about  him.  He  would  make  one  last  appeal 
for  their  loyalty  and  support,  and  then  he 
would  accept  the  inevitable. 

"  Comrades,"  he  said,  "  we  have  journeyed 
thus  far  upon  our  expedition  through  many 
perils  and  privations.  I  know  what  you  have 
suffered,  for  I  have  endured  all  with  you.  We 
have  yet  other  obstacles  to  overcome  before 
we  reach  our  goal,  but  is  it  not  worth  all  the 
sacrifice,  knowing  that  at  the  end  we  shall  win 
the  admiration  of  our  friends  and  the  gratitude 
of  our  King  ? " 

"  Much  good  this  will  do  those  of  us  whose 
carcasses  are  left  behind  as  food  for  the  beasts," 
growled  one  of  the  men. 

Robert  glanced  about  him.  It  was  easy  to 
see  that  the  sentiment  just  expressed  by  the 
man  was  unanimously  shared  by  his  com- 
panions. Robert  could  not  conceal  his  disgust. 
8  [113] 


"  Am  I  the  leader  of  a  band  of  cowards  ? " 
he  cried.  "  Ay  !  I  mean  it  and  repeat  it !  "  as 
the  angry  men  started  forward  at  his  words. 
"  Such  cowards  you  are  that  I  and  my  Indian, 
single-handed  though  we  be,  fear  you  not  with 
all  your  strength  of  numbers  !  " 

Robert's  bearing  completely  intimidated  his 
mutinous  company.  Brute  strength  ever  ad- 
mires and  fears  intellectual  courage.  These 
men  had  seen  Robert's  fearlessness  tested  many 
times,  and  knew  well  that  behind  the  penetrat- 
ing eyes  which  faced  them  without  a  quiver  was 
a  spirit  fully  matching  the  spoken  challenge. 

"  Now  listen  to  what  I  have  to  say.  You 
have  shown  me  how  little  I  can  depend  upon 
you,  and  I  shall  therefore  act  accordingly.  Up 
to  this  time  I  have  made  myself  one  of  you ; 
now  all  is  changed.  From  this  time  on  I  am 
the  master,  and  you  will  respect  my  commands 
or  pay  the  penalty.  I  shall  do  no  talking,  shall 
give  no  order  twice ;  but  the  first  man  who 
shows  signs  of  insubordination  I  will  shoot 
down  like  a  dog !  Now  get  you  to  your  work 
and  heed  well  what  I  have  spoken." 

Robert  touched  his  pistol  significantly,  and 
then  led  the  way  to  the  canoes,  directing  the 
work  of  loading  the  stores  and  of  getting  off. 
But  four  canoes  were  left,  now  that  the  party 
was  divided,  so  the  matter  of  preparation  was 
[114] 


not  a  lengthy  one.  Robert,  Piskaret,  and  the 
Indian  guide  went  in  the  first  canoe,  and  the 
three  other  canoes  followed  in  ominous  silence. 

The  journey  continued  with  the  monotony 
which  had  characterised  its  earlier  portion. 
Lake  Ontario  lay  behind  them,  and  the  frail 
canoes  were  now  borne  upon  the  waters  of 
Lake  Erie.  Robert  and  Piskaret  accepted  the 
conditions  by  day  and  by  night,  but  the  men 
showed  plainly  that  fear  alone  held  them 
within  bounds,  and  that  the  time  was  near 
at  hand  when  their  pent-up  fury  would  burst 
its  bounds. 

On  the  fourth  night  after  leaving  Lake  Onta- 
rio the  little  party  were  bivouacked  upon  the 
shores  of  Lake  Erie.  The  frost  in  the  air  made 
the  great  fire  which  they  built  a  necessity  even 
to  their  comparative  comfort.  Robert  knew 
that  he  could  hold  his  grip  upon  his  company 
but  little  longer,  and  his  watchfulness  increased. 
He  was  convinced  that  on  this  particular  night 
the  crisis  was  at  hand. 

"  One  of  us  must  keep  awake  to-night,"  said 
he,  quietly,  to  Piskaret,  "  or  there  may  be  no 
awakening  for  either  of  us  to-morrow  1 " 

To  all  outward  appearances  the  party  retired 
for  the  night  as  usual.  Robert,  though  feigning 
sleep,  was  on  the  alert,  but  toward  morning 
Piskaret  relieved  him,  and  he  sank  into  the 

[115] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 
i 

rest  of  exhaustion.  Hardly  had  he  done  so 
when  Piskaret  aroused  him  hastily. 

"  Quick  !  follow  me  ! " 

Too  dazed  to  realise  fully  what  was  meant, 
he  followed  Piskaret  blindly.  Noiselessly  the 
two  men  stole  to  the  shore  of  the  lake,  and 
Piskaret  motioned  Robert  to  get  into  one  of 
the  canoes.  The  Indian  pushed  off  quietly 
and  still-paddled  a  few  yards  away  from  the 
shore,  where  the  darkness  completely  hid  them 
although  they  could  clearly  see  all  that  oc- 
curred in  camp  by  the  light  of  the  smouldering 
fire. 

Robert  was  fully  awake  by  this  time,  and  he 
watched  the  scene  before  him  with  intense 
interest.  All  the  men  were  up  and  about,  but 
were  moving  with  the  utmost  caution.  Their 
leader  was  the  fellow  who  answered  Robert 
so  insolently  at  Otinawatawa.  He  was  brave 
enough  now.  Twelve  against  two,  and  the  two 
supposed  to  be  asleep,  should  be  sufficient  odds 
to  enable  any  coward  to  make  a  show  of 
bravery. 

Their  plans  were  evidently  matured,  for  they 
crept  noiselessly  to  the  spot  which  Robert  and 
Piskaret  had  just  left.  The  situation  was  an 
intense  one,  but  Robert  could  not  repress  a  smile 
at  the  expressions  of  dismay  with  which  the 
men  looked  at  each  other  when  they  discovered 

[116] 


MIXING    OIL    AND    WATER 

that  their  victims  had  escaped,  and  the  cries 
of  rage  with  which  they  expressed  their  chagrin. 
There  was  but  one  thing  for  them  to  do,  and 
all  seemed  to  think  of  it  at  the  same  moment. 
With  a  mad  rush  they  ran  to  the  three  re- 
maining canoes  and  hastily  pushed  off  into  the 
darkness. 

Robert  and  Piskaret  remained  silent  until 
the  paddle-beats  could  no  longer  be  heard. 
Suddenly  Robert  bethought  himself  of  the 
provisions. 

"  The  wretches  ! "  he  cried.  "  They  have  taken 
all  our  stores  with  them.  We  are  indeed  left 
in  sorry  plight." 

"  Piskaret  has  stores,"  answered  the  Indian, 
quietly,  as  he  paddled  back  to  camp.  "  Stores 
all  safe.  Put  in  bushes  while  white  men 
talked ! " 

Leading  the  way  to  a  dense  underbrush,  Pis- 
karet showed  Robert  that  he  had  removed  the 
provisions  from  the  canoes,  and  that  it  was  the 
deserting  party  which  needed  to  look  to  itself. 

"  You  are  indeed  a  company  in  yourself,  my 
Piskaret,"  said  Robert,  gratefully.  "  You  and  I 
alone  are  left,  as  we  thought  might  be  the  case, 
but  verily  I  believe  we  are  stronger  now  than 
ever  since  we  left  La  Chine.  The  West  is 
yet  before  us,  and  it  is  for  us  to  learn  its 
secrets." 

[117] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

A  footstep  caused  both  men  to  spring  to 
their  feet  in  alarm,  but  a  glance  showed  that 
they  had  no  cause  for  apprehension.  It  was 
the  guide  Joliet  had  given  Robert,  who  had 
been  entirely  forgotten  in  the  excitement  of  the 
moment.  He  had  wisely  kept  out  of  the  way 
while  the  trouble  was  brewing,  but  now  re- 
turned to  fulfil  his  duties.  Robert  welcomed 
him  with  delight. 

"Master  Joliet  knew  you  well,  my  friend, 
when  he  gave  you  to  me.  You  are  now  one  of 
us,  and  I  will  trust  you  as  I  trust  my  faithful 
Piskaret." 

The  darkness  was  giving  way  to  dawn  as 
the  three  men  again  lay  down  upon  the  ground 
to  complete  their  interrupted  rest.  One  might 
have  thought  that  the  episode  just  ended  would 
have  been  a  crushing  blow  to  Robert's  expec- 
tations of  continuing  his  expedition,  but  this 
thought  had  not  yet  come  to  him.  On  the 
contrary,  he  felt  that  his  way  was  rapidly  clear- 
ing before  him.  Dollier  and  the  Sulpitians  had 
formed  an  obstacle  to  the  accomplishment  of 
his  purpose ;  they  had  voluntarily  removed 
themselves  from  his  path.  His  rebellious  sol- 
diers had  become  another  obstacle  ;  they  too 
had  taken  themselves  off,  and  he  was  freed  from 
the  annoyance  and  danger  of  their  mutinous 
presence.  The  little  company  was  now  reduced 
[118] 


MIXING    OIL    AND    WATER 

to  three,  yet  Robert's  confidence  in  his  ultimate 
success  was  never  greater.  A  lack  of  judg- 
ment, say  you  ?  Truly,  but  no  lack  of  courage. 
You  think  it  recklessness  rather  than  bravery  ? 
Yes  ;  but  is  not  recklessness  a  component  part 
of  all  heroism  ?  The  Spartans  at  Thermopylae 
were  reckless,  yet  history  points  to  their  deed 
as  an  example  of  sublime  self-sacrifice.  They 
waited  in  that  pass  for  the  dawn  to  break 
upon  known  danger.  Does  it  require  less 
heroism  to  await  those  dangers  which  are 
unknown  ? 


[119] 


VIII; 

-THE- 

HEROINE 

DISCOVERS 


ROBERT    AND 

experiencing 


HILE 

Dollier    were 

their  various  adventures, 
affairs  had  not  been  stagnant 
at  Quebec.  The  settlers  had 
been  busily  engaged  in  col- 
lecting and  shipping  to 
France  the  skins  of  the  mink,  the  beaver,  the 
otter,  the  silver  fox,  and  the  sable,  which  the 
country  so  plentifully  supplied ;  the  soldiers  of 
the  Carignan  regiment  had  made  their  usual 
excursions  against  the  hostile  Indians ;  and  in 
the  chateau  matters  of  state  had  undergone  so 
many  changes  that  now  they  were  assuming 
complicated  proportions.  Governor  Courcelle's 
relations  with  the  Intendant  had  not  been  im- 
proved by  the  latter's  attitude  toward  Robert 
at  the  time  his  petition  was  presented,  especially 
after  the  devoted  father  discovered  how  deeply 
interested  his  daughter  had  become  in  the 
fortunes  of  the  young  explorer. 

Anne  could  not  conceal  her  feelings  from  the 
Governor's  penetrating  glance ;  and  when  her 
[  120] 


HEROINE   DISCOVERS  AN   ALLY 

great  secret  was  once  discovered  she  did  not 
hesitate  to  tell  her  father  all  the  petty  details 
of  the  conspiracy,  as  known  to  Robert  and  her- 
self, in  which  he  had  been  made  an  unwitting 
tool.  The  soldier  was  rapidly  replacing  the 
governor  in  the  old  man's  bearing  toward  Mon- 
sieur Talon,  and  the  Intendant  was  not  pleased 
to  note  the  change.  Feeling  secure  in  his 
position,  however,  both  with  the  King  and  with 
the  Jesuits,  Talon  undertook  to  ignore  the 
altered  conditions,  the  result  being  that  stormy 
interviews  between  the  two  men  came  to  be 
matters  of  daily  occurrence. 

One  evening  after  supper  Anne  was  walking 
in  the  garden  with  her  father,  her  hand  resting 
lightly  upon  his  arm,  the  two  engaged  in  serious 
conversation. 

"  How  comes  it,  my  daughter,  that  this 
stranger  could  win  your  heart  in  so  brief  a 
space  ?  Methinks  it  would  not  have  been  amiss 
had  he  but  told  me  of  his  leanings." 

"  Oh,  father,  I  would  that  you  could  know 
him  as  I  do  !  His  is  the  bravest  heart,  yet  the 
tenderest.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  it  came  about, 
but  as  he  told  me  of  his  plans  and  hopes  and 
beliefs,  I  felt  that  they,  too,  were  mine ;  and 
later,  when  we  came  to  know  each  other 
better,  and  he  told  me  all  about  his  boyhood, 
of  the  neglect  of  his  father,  and  of  his  brother,  of 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

the  unhappiness  of  his  life  at  the  House  of  the 
Novices,  and  of  the  persecution  of  the  Jesuits, 
I  could  not  help  thinking  of  your  persecution, 
wondering  if  this  was  the  lot  of  all  men. 
Robert  did  not  force  the  story  on  me,  father ; 
I  felt  myself  impelled  to  ask  it  of  him,  —  and 
he  told  it  all  so  modestly  yet  so  manfully  that 
I  grew  to  like  him  mightily." 

Anne  rested  her  cheek  upon  her  father's  arm 
as  she  ceased  speaking. 

"  I  see  you  did,  my  daughter.  I  grant  you 
that  if  Master  Cavelier  prove  as  successful  in 
his  later  quests  as  in  the  present  one,  our  King 
will  find  in  him  a  valued  servant." 

"Jest  not,  father  dear,"  Anne  interrupted 
seriously.  "  I  cannot  make  you  see  him  as  he 
is.  He  will  not  claim  me  until  he  has  kept  his 
word  with  you,  and  that  is  why  I  fear  the  pres- 
ence of  the  Jesuits  in  his  party.  Oh,  father,  if 
aught  befall  him  now  my  heart  will  break  !  " 

The  tears  welled  up  in  Anne's  brown  eyes, 
and  her  father  hastened  to  console  her. 

"  Tut,  tut,  my  child  ;  dry  your  eyes.  You  are 
a  soldier's  daughter,  and  tears  become  you  not. 
You  know  full  well  that  I  will  never  stand  be- 
tween you  and  the  man  you  love,  if  he  but  show 
himself  worthy  of  you.  But  surely  you  cannot 
think  it  strange  that  some  little  jealousy  creeps 
into  my  heart  to  know  that  from  this  time  on  I 

[122  ] 


HEROINE   DISCOVERS   AN  ALLY 

must  share  you  with  another.  Your  happiness 
is  all  I  ask,  my  child,  and  you  may  trust  me. 
Eighteen  years  have  passed  since  your  dear 
mother  placed  you  in  my  arms  and  bade  me 
watch  over  you  in  her  stead,  and  all  these  years 
you  have  comforted  me  in  my  loneliness.  Be 
patient,  daughter,  with  an  old  man's  weakness." 

Anne's  arms  were  clasped  tight  about  her 
father's  neck,  and  her  soft  cheek  nestled  close 
to  his  weather-beaten  face. 

"  Father,  darling,  you  will  break  my  heart ! 
Can  you  think  that  I  should  love  you  less 
because  of  this  new  love  which  fills  my  life 
with  happiness  ?  Ah,  you  do  me  wrong  !  Say 
rather  that  the  new  love  has  made  more  real 
the  old  one  that  can  never  change.  You 
have  been  both  mother  and  father  to  me  all 
these  years,  and  I  have  loved  you,  and  I  love 
you  still,  with  all  my  heart.  Say  not  that 
you  are  jealous,  but  that  you  will  share  my 
happiness." 

"  You  are  right,  child.  'T  was  but  a  mo- 
ment's weakness.  I  will  rejoice  with  you,  and 
pray  God  that  Master  Cavelier  prove  a  fit  hus- 
band for  my  little  maid." 

The  soldier  on  guard  clanked  in,  interrupting 
the  conversation. 

"  Master  Joliet  is  within,  waiting  to  see  your 
Excellency." 

[123] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

"  Bid  him  join  us  here,"  replied  the  Governor. 

Louis  Joliet  quickly  responded  to  the  sum- 
mons, and  made  a  low  obeisance  as  he  was 
presented  to  the  Governor's  daughter. 

"  Well  met,  Mistress  Courcelle,"  said  Joliet, 
as  he  bowed.  "  By  your  father's  leave  I  will 
first  deliver  to  you  a  message  with  which  I 
have  been  charged." 

"  For  me  ? "  asked  Anne,  incredulously. 

"  For  you,"  replied  Joliet,  gravely,  "  if  your 
father  will  permit." 

"  Right  willingly,  Master  Joliet,"  said  Cour- 
celle, quite  as  puzzled  as  was  Anne.  "Pro- 
ceed, I  pray  you.  You  have  just  returned 
from  your  investigation  at  Superior  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Excellency,  an  hour  ago.  But  before 
I  tell  you  of  this,  I  would  say  to  Mistress 
Courcelle  that  one  Robert  Cavelier,  whom  I  by 
chance  met  upon  the  shores  of  Ontario,  bade 
me  bring  to  her  his  greeting  and  his  pledge." 

"  Robert !     You  have  seen  Robert  ? " 

"Yes,  but  six  weeks  back.  May  I  speak 
freely,  sir,  without  offence  ? "  Joliet  turned  to 
Courcelle  for  his  consent. 

"  Speak  freely,  sir.     I  understand  you  not." 

"  I  thank  you,  sir.  Master  Cavelier  had  not 
progressed  favourably  with  Master  Dollier  and 
the  Sulpitians,  and  when  I  met  him  he  was  sore 
distressed.  I  told  him  of  mine  own  adven- 

[124] 


HEROINE  DISCOVERS  AN   ALLY 

tures,  and  he  related  his  to  me.  The  Jesuits 
were  not  in  sympathy  with  the  expedition,  and 
at  Ontario  they  left  him,  themselves  continuing 
to  the  northward." 

"  The  priests  continued  upon  the  expedition 
by  another  route,  say  you  ? "  asked  Governor 
Courcelle. 

"  Not  so,  Excellency ;  they  abandoned  the 
expedition  that  they  might  convert  the  Indians 
upon  the  Upper  Lakes." 

"  But  what  of  their  commission  of  discovery  ? " 

"  So  Master  Cavelier  asked  of  them,  but  they 
asserted  that  they  recognised  no  earthly  ruler 
when  their  faith  called  them." 

Joliet  studied  the  Governor  carefully,  and 
was  gratified  to  see  that  his  words  produced 
the  desired  effect.  He  did  not  know  how 
fully  what  he  said  confirmed  the  suspicions 
which  Anne  had  so  recently  confided  to  her 
father. 

"  Colbert  shall  hear  of  this,"  exclaimed  Cour- 
celle, angrily.  "  Perhaps  Monsieur  Talon  can  ex- 
plain the  eagerness  of  the  Jesuits  to  join  Master 
Cavelier  in  his  long-studied  plans.  'Twas  an 
artifice  to  prevent  a  loyal  subject  from  winning 
honours  for  his  King.  Assuredly,  Colbert  shall 
hear  of  this  ! " 

Courcelle  walked  rapidly  around  the  little 
circle  in  the  garden  until  he  could  no  longer 
[125] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

control  himself,  and  then  entered  the  chateau 
to  seek  for  Talon  while  his  wrath  was  yet 
warm.  Anne  and  Joliet  were  left  for  the 
moment  by  themselves. 

"  But  tell  me,  Master  Joliet,"  said  Anne,  her 
cheeks  colouring  a  little  as  she  spoke,  "did 
you  leave  Master  Cavelier  well  and  in  good 
spirits  ? " 

"  I  left  him  well  and  happy,  Mistress  Cour- 
celle ;  and  who  would  not  be  both  with  such  a 
reward  awaiting  him  ?  He  bade  me  say  that 
the  thought  of  you  made  hardship  a  pleasure, 
and  he  asks  that  you  be  of  stout  heart  against 
the  day  of  his  return." 

Anne's  face  bore  telltale  marks,  but  they  only 
added  to  her  charm. 

"  Master  Cavelier  must  have  liked  you  much, 
Master  Joliet,  to  tell  you  what  is  known  to 
none  but  my  father  and  us  twain.  If  he 
thought  so  well  of  you,  so  indeed  must  I. 
You  have  brought  me  welcome  tidings,  and  I 
thank  you  for  them." 

Joliet  bowed  to  press  his  lips  to  the  hand 
Anne  held  out. 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  compliments,  fair 
Mistress.  I  would  that  you  and  he  may  ever 
count  me  amongst  your  warmest  friends." 

Again  the  conversation  in  the  garden  was 
interrupted,  and  Joliet  was  summoned  to  the 

[126] 


HEROINE   DISCOVERS   AN   ALLY 

council-chamber.  Anne  hardly  realised,  how- 
ever, that  she  was  left  alone,  for  her  thoughts 
had  been  given  new  food  to  feed  upon.  Robert 
was  well  and  was  thinking  of  her.  His  hope  of 
being  freed  from  the  Sulpitians  in  the  expedi- 
tion was  already  realised:  this  much  she  now 
knew.  Robert  would  persevere  and  would  win 
success,  —  of  this  she  was  equally  sure. 

Ah !  Woman's  faith !  What  deeds  would 
yet  remain  unaccomplished  but  for  thy  firm, 
unquenchable  blaze !  Theory  cannot  change 
thee,  rumour  is  powerless  against  thee,  even 
fact  recognises  thy  power.  Long  mayst  thou 
preserve  thy  unchangeableness,  that  thou  mayst 
prompt  men  to  deeds  still  greater  in  time  to 
come ! 


[  127  ] 


OUR     YEARS      HAD 

passed  since  that  eventful 
night  when  Robert,  Piskaret, 
and  the  guide  whom  Joliet 
left  with  them  had  sought 
rest  after  the  exciting  episode 
of  the  mutiny,  —  four  years 
of  arduous  labour,  of  physical  hardships,  of  un- 
wavering perseverance,  of  undaunted  confidence 
in  his  undertaking,  Through  trackless  forests 
Robert  and  his  companions  had  cut  their  way  ; 
against  hostile  traders  and  more  hostile  priests 
the  explorer's  diplomacy  had  held  its  own  ;  face 
to  face  with  treacherous  savages  the  trio  had 
matched  sagacity  against  cunning  and  won  the 
game ;  with  his  passage  barred  by  ice  and  floods 
Robert  had  pushed  on  and  on,  surmounting 
all  obstacles  by  his  indomitable  will,  until  the 
valley  of  the  Ohio  and  the  verdant  plains  of  the 
Illinois  lay  before  him. 

Here  he  must  stop.     He  had  accomplished 
much  and  learned  more,  but  to  venture  further 
[128] 


FINDS   NOT   WHAT   HE   SEEKS 

toward  the  great  river  which  was  his  goal 
could  result  only  in  disaster  with  so  small  a 
company.  His  ambition  had  been  fired  rather 
than  subdued  by  his  experiences.  He  had 
found  the  way,  and  now  he  might  return  to 
Quebec  with  accurate  information  at  his  dis- 
posal instead  of  the  hopes  and  expectations 
which  he  had  previously  laid  before  the  Gov- 
ernor and  the  Intendant.  Surely  he  could  now 
gather  together  a  goodly  company  to  lead  into 
the  glorious  valley  of  the  Mississippi. 

And  why  was  it  not  possible  to  return  to 
Quebec,  if  even  to  remain  there  a  few  months 
while  making  preparations  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  his  final  triumph  ?  And  while  in  Que- 
bec could  he  not  make  sweet  Anne  Courcelle 
his  wife  ?  Ah,  Robert,  now  we  learn  the  truth  ! 
The  ice,  the  floods,  the  traders,  the  priests,  the 
savages,  —  ay,  even  the  wilderness  itself  could 
not  make  you  turn  your  face  to  the  right  or  to 
the  left ;  but  a  pair  of  deep  brown  eyes  and  a 
bewitching  little  maid  can  make  your  philos- 
ophy seem  even  reasonable ! 

So  it  was  that  four  long  years  after  Master 
Robert  Cavelier  had  left  the  shores  of  fair  La 
Chine,  together  with  Master  Dollier  and  a  motley 
company  of  priests  and  vagabonds,  this  same 
Master  Cavelier  returned  to  Quebec  alone  save 
for  two  swarthy  Indians  who  seemed  his  shad- 
9  [ 129  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

ows  on  right  and  left.  And,  strange  to  say,  our 
bold  explorer,  after  leaving  his  companions  in 
the  Lower  Town,  paused  not  until  he  reached 
the  bastion  gate  of  the  Governor's  chateau. 

Robert's  heart  beat  hard  as  he  presented  him- 
self at  the  entrance  and  asked  an  audience  with 
the  Governor.  His  mind  unconsciously  went 
back  to  that  afternoon  when  he  had  first  waited 
before  the  stone-bound  door,  little  knowing  that 
within  he  would  find  that  for  which  he  had  not 
sought,  yet  that  for  which  he  would  not  now 
exchange  a  kingdom.  Four  years  of  waiting, 
all  concentrated  in  the  few  moments  he  stood 
there,  made  the  slight  delay  in  the  return  of 
the  soldier  on  guard  seem  interminable  ;  but  at 
last  the  suspense  ended  and  Robert  was  shown 
into  the  same  dark,  low-ceiled  room  in  which  he 
had  fought  his  silent  inward  battle  against  Mon- 
sieur Talon  and  the  Jesuits. 

Robert  himself  could  hardly  fail  to  realise 
what  a  change  the  years  had  wrought  in  him. 
When  he  left  that  room  before,  it  was  with  high 
ambitions,  with  youthful  enthusiasm,  with  un- 
tested confidence.  To-day  he  stood  there  tried 
as  by  fire,  with  the  calm  outward  demeanour 
which  experience  alone  can  bring.  His  heart 
throbbed  loudly,  it  is  true,  but  his  eye  was  firm, 
and  he  breathed  self-reliance. 

After  a  few  moments'  waiting  a  tall,  stalwart 
[130] 


FINDS    NOT   WHAT    HE    SEEKS 

man  entered  the  room.     Robert  started  forward, 
but  as  quickly  recovered  himself. 

"  You  wished  to  see  me  ? "  the  man  asked. 

"  Nay,"  answered  Robert,  "  't  was  the  Gov- 
ernor whom  I  sought." 

"  I  am  the  Governor,"  replied  the  stranger,  in 
surprise,  "  and  who  may  you  be,  sir  ? " 

"  You  are  the  Governor  ! "  repeated  Robert, 
slowly,  putting  his  hand  to  his  head  in  bewilder- 
ment ;  "  and  what  of  Monsieur  Courcelle,  sir  ? " 

"  Monsieur  Courcelle  was  recalled  to  France 
some  twelve  months  since ;  and  I,  the  Comte 
de  Frontenac,  have  the  honour  to  serve  in  his 
stead." 

Robert  bowed  low,  hiding  his  intense  disap- 
pointment. 

"  I  crave  indulgence,  sir  ;  I  am  Robert  Cave- 
lier,  who   left   Montreal   four   years  ago  on  a 
journey  of  exploration  under  letters-patent  from 
Monsieur  Courcelle.      And  his  daughter,  sir,  - 
did  she  return  to  France  with  him  ? " 

"Ay,  Master  Cavelier,  Monsieur  Courcelle 
and  his  daughter,  Mistress  Anne,  left  Quebec 
a  year  ago,  and  reached  Paris  in  safety,  as  I 
know  from  news  returned  from  there." 

"  I  thank  you,  sir.  'T  is  sudden  news  to  me. 
I  had  not  thought  except  to  find  him  here." 

"  But  what  of  you? "  asked  Frontenac.  "  You 
have  come  to  make  report  of  your  enterprise  ? 

[131] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

Then  tell  me  of  it.  Did  you  not  set  out  with 
Master  Dollier  and  the  Sulpitians  ?  " 

"  Ay,  sir." 

It  was  a  mighty  struggle,  but  by  this  time 
Robert  had  himself  well  in  hand. 

"  Dollier  and  the  Sulpitians  returned  some 
two  years  since,  reporting  you  dead,  as  I  recall 
from  the  records." 

"  They  knew  not  of  me,  sir,  from  the  time 
when  they  left  me  and  my  party  at  Ontario  to 
continue  by  ourselves.  I  will  gladly  tell  your 
Excellency  the  details  of  the  expedition." 

The  present  situation  was  one  which  Robert 
had  not  even  dimly  imagined.  He  was  aware, 
before  his  departure,  of  the  constant  quarreling 
between  Courcelle  and  Talon,  but  he  could  not 
have  foreseen  that  the  final  outcome  of  this 
would  be  so  momentous  in  its  bearing  upon 
himself. 

Louis  de  Buade,  the  Comte  de  Frontenac, 
replaced  Courcelle  and  Talon  in  1672,  a  year 
before  Robert's  return,  and  he  had  already 
succeeded  in  making  his  impress  upon  the 
settlement.  Tall,  powerful  in  build,  fiery  in 
temper,  and  fearless  in  action,  he  was  not  a 
man  to  be  trifled  with ;  yet  in  his  heart,  when 
once  that  heart  was  reached,  might  be  found 
true  sympathy  and  human  kindness.  His  re- 
sourceful mind  and  quick  intellect  enabled  him 

[  132] 


FINDS    NOT    WHAT    HE    SEEKS 

to  meet  the  constantly  conflicting  questions 
which  arose  in  New  France  with  great  diplo- 
macy and  firmness,  with  the  result  that  he  won 
friends  equally  among  the  settlers  and  the  sav- 
ages. The  Jesuits  alone  were  hostile,  though 
secretly  so,  for  with  the  new  Governor  at  the 
head  of  State  their  temporal  influence  was 
seriously  checked. 

Frontenac's  life  was  full  of  romance  and  ex- 
citement. His  father  held  a  prominent  position 
in  the  household  of  Louis  XIII.,  and  when  the 
future  soldier  was  born  the  King  became  his 
godfather  and  bestowed  his  own  name  upon 
him.  While  still  a  child,  the  youthful  Louis 
de  Buade  showed  an  unconquerable  passion  for 
war,  and  was  sent  to  Holland  to  serve  under 
the  Prince  of  Orange.  During  the  next  ten 
years  he  fought  at  Hesdin,  Arras,  Aire,  Cal- 
lioure,  Perpignan,  Orbitello,  and  in  the  Italian 
campaign,  rising  in  that  time  to  the  rank  of 
brigadier-general.  Then  he  returned  to  Paris 
and  entered  Court  life.  His  impetuosity  in 
love  was  no  less  than  in  war,  and  after  caus- 
ing havoc  in  the  hearts  of  half  the  ladies  of  the 
palace,  he  was  hastily  and  secretly  married  to 
Anne  de  la  Grange  Trianon,  whose  temper 
proved  a  match  even  for  his  own.  Frontenac's 
domestic  infelicities  became  Court  gossip,  and 
when  in  taking  out  his  handkerchief  one  day 

[133] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

there  dropped  from  his  pocket  a  love-letter 
from  Mademoiselle  de  Mortemart,  the  future 
Madame  de  Montespan,  Louis  XIV.  saw  fit  to 
consider  favourably  his  petition  for  a  foreign 
post.  Frontenac's  appointment  as  Governor  of 
New  France  freed  him,  therefore,  from  the  un- 
welcome society  of  his  wife,  and  provided  him 
with  the  income  which  he  sorely  needed. 

This  appointment  of  Frontenac,  however,  was 
a  more  fortunate  event  for  France  than  the 
King  realised.  The  new  Governor  possessed 
remarkable  fitness  for  his  office.  His  experience 
in  war,  the  tact  and  diplomacy  which  he  had 
learned  at  the  French  Court,  his  unusually 
attractive  personality, —  all  combined  to  make 
of  him  an  ideal  ruler.  The  Indians  looked 
upon  him  as  their  "  Great  Father,"  the  colonists 
recognised  him  as  a  just  and  fearless  official,  and 
the  Jesuits  found  in  him  an  implacable  and 
dangerous  foe.  Courcelle  had  lost  by  trying 
to  please  all  factions ;  Frontenac  would  please 
them  if  he  could,  but  he  would  please  himself 
first.  When  the  Jesuits  finally  triumphed  over 
him  and  effected  his  recall,  France  lost  its  grip 
upon  the  New  World. 

Frontenac   was    interested    in   the   youthful 

explorer  who  stood   before  him.     The  evident 

disappointment  which  his   visitor   suffered  did 

not  escape  his  penetrating  eye,  and  he  surmised 

[134] 


FINDS    NOT    WHAT    HE    SEEKS 

the  situation  with  considerable  exactness.  It 
explained  to  him  why  Mistress  Anne  Courcelle 
left  the  bleak  shores  of  Quebec  with  tears  upon 
her  cheeks,  and  why  the  old  Governor  had 
especially  urged  that  Joliet  be  sent  upon  a 
similar  mission  of  exploration  that  the  fate  of 
Robert  Cavelier's  party  might  be  ascertained. 

As  Robert  recited  the  story  of  his  expedition 
from  its  beginning,  Frontenac  could  not  fail  to 
recognise  the  plot  which  the  Jesuits  had  laid  to 
reap  whatever  benefit  might  come  from  his  suc- 
cess. Thinking  Robert  dead,  the  Sulpitians 
had  not  hesitated  to  put  their  own  interpreta- 
tion upon  the  events  which  had  occurred,  fail- 
ing to  agree  in  many  important  respects  with 
the  facts  as  Robert  related  them ;  but  Fronte- 
nac was  sufficiently  familiar  with  the  priests' 
methods  to  draw  his  own  conclusions.  The 
Governor  studied  the  younger  man  with  un- 
questioned interest,  listening  intently  until  the 
narrative  was  brought  down  to  the  time  of 
Robert's  return. 

"  I  congratulate  you,  Master  Cavelier,"  said 
Frontenac,  when  Robert  concluded.  "  Even 
though  you  did  not  realise  the  full  measure  of 
your  hopes,  yet  you  have  indeed  accomplished 
much,  and  it  suits  my  plans  to  aid  you  in 
still  greater  accomplishments.  The  King  shall 
know  of  your  efforts  in  his  behalf,  and  per- 

[  135  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

chance  some  day  you  may  have  the  opportu- 
nity to  tell  him  of  them  face  to  face.  In  the 
meantime  I  recommend  that  you  retire  for  the 
rest  which  you  need  over-much,  and  return  to 
me  two  days  hence,  when  I  would  again  talk 
with  you." 

Robert  left  the  chateau  with  mingled  feel- 
ings of  despair  and  hope.  Anne  had  passed  be- 
yond his  reach,  for  the  time  being  at  all  events, 
and  he  must  contain  himself  in  patience ;  but 
on  the  other  hand  his  interview  with  Frontenac 
showed  him  that  the  new  Governor  was  in 
hearty  sympathy  with  him.  With  his  coopera- 
tion Robert  felt  certain  that  the  way  would 
be  opened  to  him,  and  had  Anne  been  still  in 
Quebec  he  would  have  welcomed  the  change  as 
one  which  boded  favour  to  his  fortunes.  For 
the  present,  however,  he  could  but  wait  as 
patiently  as  possible,  ever  ready  to  seize  the 
opportunities  as  they  presented  themselves. 

On  the  appointed  day  Robert  returned  to  the 
chateau  in  accord  with  the  Governor's  instruc- 
tions. The  two  men,  though  widely  separated 
in  years,  found  much  in  common,  and  at  this 
interview  were  sown  the  seeds  of  a  friendship 
which  lasted  as  long  as  Frontenac  remained  in 
New  France.  The  Governor  rejoiced  to  find  a 
man  in  whom  he  could  repose  full  confidence 
and  to  whom  he  could  unburden  his  mind  with 

[136] 


FINDS    NOT    WHAT    HE    SEEKS 

absolute  safety.  He  needed  Robert  fully  as 
much  as  Robert  needed  him.  When  once  pos- 
sessed of  the  story  of  Robert's  life,  he  did  not 
hesitate  to  announce  his  own  antipathy  to  the 
Jesuits  and  his  fixed  determination  that  while 
he  remained  governor,  he  and  not  they  should 
rule  New  France. 

As  time  went  on,  and  Frontenac  became 
familiar  with  Robert's  knowledge  of  Indian  life 
and  warfare,  the  Governor  placed  him  in  com- 
mand of  the  military  company  of  Quebec. 
Robert  accepted  the  post  eagerly,  as  it  gave 
him  a  definite  channel  into  which  to  divert  the 
growing  impatience  over  his  separation  from 
Anne,  besides  placing  him  among  the  most  im- 
portant personages  of  the  colony.  The  Indians 
were  sufficiently  restless  at  this  time  to  require 
frequent  incursions  into  the  forests  in  order  to 
impress  them  with  the  superior  strength  of  the 
white  man,  thus  preventing  serious  outbreaks. 

The  Jesuits  in  the  meantime  had  great  dif- 
ficulty in  maintaining  even  seeming  passivity 
under  Frontenac's  administration.  He  at  once 
appreciated  that  their  great  zealousness  in  their 
work  among  the  Indians  was  in  reality  a  defi- 
nite effort  to  control  the  savages  sufficiently  to 
make  themselves  essential  to  the  safety  of  the 
colony.  While  Courcelle  was  governor,  there 
was  a  constant  fear  that  the  Indians  would  be 

[137J 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

let  loose  upon  the  settlement  unless  the  Jesuits 
were  permitted  to  participate  in  the  conduct 
of  temporal  affairs.  Frontenac,  to  meet  this 
threatened  danger,  gradually  brought  the  lead- 
ing chiefs  into  direct  acquaintance  with  himself, 
their  "Great  Father,"  and  even  persuaded  some 
of  them  to  send  their  children  to  Quebec  to  be 
educated. 

This  was  so  flagrant  an  intrusion  upon  their 
own  territory  that  the  priests  could  not  refrain 
from  making  a  formal  protest.  One  Easter 
morning  the  Abbe  Fe'nelon  delivered  a  dis- 
course in  the  little  church  of  the  Hotel  Dieu 
at  Montreal,  which  fanned  the  fire  into  flames. 
Speaking  of  the  duties  of  those  who  possessed 
temporal  authority,  he  so  obviously  directed  his 
comparisons  against  the  Governor  that  no  one 
could  mistake  his  meaning. 

It  so  happened  that  Robert  Cavelier  was  at 
that  time  visiting  his  friend,  Jacques  Le  Ber, 
in  Montreal,  and  he  was  in  the  church  when 
the  sermon  was  delivered.  He  sat  near  the 
door,  and  as  the  Abbd  proceeded,  Robert  noisily 
rose  to  his  feet,  showing  by  his  disapproving 
glances  and  gestures  his  evident  displeasure. 
As  the  Abbe',  though  disconcerted,  continued 
his  sermon,  Robert  angrily  left  the  church. 

This  action  was  the  direct  cause  of  dividing 
the  colony  into  two  factions,  but  from  this  time 

[138] 


FINDS    NOT    WHAT    HE    SEEKS 

Robert  stood  as  the  most  intimate  friend  and 
champion  of  the  Governor.  The  Jesuits  di- 
rected their  intrigues  against  them  jointly, 
and  the  fortunes  of  the  two  were  the  more 
indissolubly  connected  thereby.  Frontenac's 
popularity,  however,  gave  him  the  stronger 
following,  and  the  fathers  were  still  forced  to 
accept  his  temporal  supremacy,  although  with 
evident  distaste. 

Recognising  their  need  of  reinforcements,  the 
Jesuits  sent  an  earnest  appeal  to  France  for  a 
larger  number  of  missionaries  to  be  sent  to  the 
New  World.  As  a  result,  a  few  months  later, 
upon  a  ship  bringing  a  small  number  of  colo- 
nists, there  arrived  at  Quebec  a  goodly  number 
of  priests,  ready  for  service.  Robert  was  away 
at  the  time  the  ship  arrived,  investigating  a 
reported  uprising  among  the  Indians,  but  he 
received  full  details  from  the  Governor  upon 
his  return. 

On  the  following  day  Robert  was  on  his  way 
back  to  the  barracks  from  the  chateau  when  he 
saw  one  of  the  .new  arrivals  coming  toward  him. 
The  priest  was  tall  but  spare,  and  he  was  taking 
an  evident  interest  in  his  novel  surroundings. 
Something  attracted  Robert  toward  the  stran- 
ger as  the  father  came  in  his  direction,  and  he 
paused  for  a  moment  until  the  new-comer  should 
pass.  As  he  drew  near,  the  priest  turned  his 
[139] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

face  full  upon  Robert,  and  looked  at  him  with 
a  penetrating  glance.  The  recognition  was  mu- 
tual, and  both  men  drew  back  with  a  cry  of 
surprise. 

"Jean!" 

"Robert!" 

The  priest  was  the  first  to  recover  his  com- 
posure, and  a  cynical  smile  of  satisfaction  re- 
placed the  involuntary  expression  of  surprise. 

"  So  thus  it  is,  my  brother,  that  we  meet 
after  these  long  years !  I  have  sought  you  far 
and  near  since  you  forced  me  to  take  your  place 
in  the  cell  at  the  House  of  the  Novices  in  Paris. 
I  had  given  you  up  as  dead,  and  hoped  it  might 
be  thus ;  but  here  I  find  you  in  this  citadel  of 
the  Devil,  strong  in  body  and  proud  in  bearing. 
Right  glad  am  I  to  know  where  you  are,  that 
I  may  also  keep  watch  over  your  deeds,  and 
perchance  pay  up  the  score  which  has  been 
standing  over-long." 

Robert  could  not  resist  smiling  at  the  recol- 
lections which  this  meeting  with  his  brother 
brought  back.  The  episode  at  the  House  of 
the  Novices  had  been  almost  forgotten,  but 
with  the  victim  of  his  stratagem  now  before 
him  the  details  were  forcibly  recalled. 

"This  is  indeed  an  unexpected  meeting," 
replied  Robert,  still  amused  by  the  intense  look 
of  hatred  upon  his  brother's  face.  "  I  was  sorry 

[140] 


FINDS    NOT    WHAT    HE    SEEKS 

to  leave  you  so  abruptly  when  last  we  parted, 
and  I  have  been  much  concerned  lest  your 
labours  at  Rouen  were  temporarily  interrupted. 
I  trust  that  Father  Anselm  treated  you  with 
due  consideration  ? " 

Jean's  face  was  black  with  rage,  and  he 
clenched  his  hands  convulsively. 

"  So  you  have  come  to  join  the  band  of 
labourers  in  the  new  vineyards  of  the  Lord ! " 
continued  Robert,  thoroughly  enjoying  his 
brother's  discomfiture.  "  What  is  to  be  your 
part  ?  Will  you  also  make  a  pretence  of  con- 
verting Indians  while  striking  at  the  govern- 
ment of  Quebec  ?  Think  twice,  my  brother ! 
Frontenac  is  a  worthy  foe,  and  he  will  not  re- 
lease his  hold  without  a  struggle." 

"  The  Devil  take  you ! "  cried  Jean,  almost 
before  his  brother  had  ceased  speaking.  In  an- 
other moment  he  was  the  priest  again,  and  his 
words,  though  threatening,  were  spoken  with 
the  old-time  deliberation. 

*'  Your  speech  is  quite  in  keeping  with  your 
new-born  confidence,  Robert ;  but  do  not  go 
too  far  in  your  insults  to  me  and  to  our  holy 
Order.  Have  you  forgotten  the  curse  which 
the  Father  Superior  laid  upon  you  when  you 
threatened  to  leave  the  House  of  the  Novices  ? 
Do  you  think  't  was  spoken  idly  ?  Just  so  sure 
as  yon  setting  sun  will  rise  again,  and  just  so 
[141] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

sure  as  I  myself  have  found  you,  will  the 
mighty  Society  of  Jesus  seek  you  out  to  your 
destruction ! " 

"  So  be  it,  Jean  !  I  can  quite  believe  all  that 
you  say.  But  if  aught  befall  me,  the  Governor 
will  know  well  where  to  place  the  guilt.  I 
fear  neither  you  nor  them,  and  I  defy  you  both 
to  do  your  worst ! " 

Robert  pushed  by  his  brother  and  walked 
with  measured  step  to  his  destination.  Jean 
stood  for  a  moment  watching  his  retreating 
figure,  with  hatred  stamped  indelibly  upon  his 
face,  and  then  strode  angrily  away  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Upper  Town. 

To  Robert  this  unexpected  meeting  could 
not  do  other  than  recall  the  unhappy  events  of 
his  childhood  and  youth.  As  he  said,  he  feared 
the  Jesuits  no  longer,  but  they  stood  to  him 
for  all  that  had  been  dark  in  his  life.  Jean's 
presence  within  the  restricted  limits  of  the  town 
was  certain  to  be  a  constant  reminder  of  his 
past  suffering,  and  undoubtedly  his  brother 
would  do  all  in  his  power  to  incite  the  priest- 
hood still  further  against  him.  It  was  a  strange 
fatality  which  had  brought  the  two  men  to- 
gether again  in  this  far-away  part  of  the  world 
after  all  those  years,  but  Robert  refused  to 
accept  it  as  a  catastrophe. 

Jean  was  indeed  surprised  to  find  thus  unex- 
[142] 


FINDS    NOT    WHAT    HE    SEEKS 

pectedly  the  object  of  so  long  a  quest.  When 
the  exchange  of  prisoners  at  the  House  of  the 
Novices  had  been  discovered,  the  Father  Supe- 
rior laid  upon  him  the  responsibility  of  hunting 
down  his  erring  brother.  Jean  had  earnestly 
endeavoured  to  accomplish  the  task  intrusted 
to  him,  but  was  finally  obliged  to  abandon  it. 
Now  that  he  had  located  the  object  of  his  search 
grown  to  man's  estate,  and  learned  the  impor- 
tant position  Robert  held  in  the  colony  as  the 
Governor's  closest  friend  and  adviser,  he  realised 
that  his  brother  had  become  a  serious  menace 
to  the  welfare  of  the  Jesuits.  He  felt  that  the 
responsibility  was  too  great  for  him  to  bear 
alone  ;  and  thus  it  was  that  when  the  ship  which 
brought  bin  to  Quebec  returned  to  France,  it 
bore  a  long  letter  from  him  to  the  Father  Supe- 
rior, setting  forth  in  full  the  facts  of  the  unex- 
pected encounter,  and  asking  advice  as  to  further 
action. 

When  Robert  rehearsed  the  episode  to  Fron- 
tenac  at  their  next  meeting,  the  Governor  was 
much  more  concerned  than  he  cared  to  show. 
Robert  had  become  to  him  the  most  important 
ally  in  all  the  colony,  and  his  friendship  for  him 
was  deep  and  sincere.  He  knew  far  better  than 
Robert  how  tireless  would  be  the  efforts  of  the 
Jesuits  in  the  accomplishment  of  their  threat,  and 
Frontenac  was  unwilling  to  take  any  chances  re- 

[143] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

garding  his  friend's  safety.  He  quickly  formed 
the  plan,  therefore,  of  sending  Robert  to  Paris 
with  missives  to  Colbert  and  to  the  King,  seek- 
ing letters-patent  which  should  give  him  royal 
assistance  in  completing  his  discoveries.  This 
would  remove  him  for  a  time  from  the  seat  of 
danger,  and  should  he  be  successful  in  obtain- 
ing the  desired  permission,  Robert  could  start 
upon  his  expedition  immediately  upon  his 
return. 

Frontenac  carefully  concealed  his  real  motives 
from  Robert,  and  had  no  difficulty  in  persuad- 
ing him  to  undertake  the  voyage.  This  was 
the  opportunity  for  which  he  had  waited,  for 
in  France  he  would  again  find  Anne  Courcelle. 
He  eagerly  accepted  the  Governor's  suggestion, 
therefore,  and  hastened  his  arrangements  so  that 
he  could  sail  upon  the  ship  just  ready  to  return 
to  France. 

So  it  was  that  Father  Jean  Cavelier  hastily 
transcribed  another  letter  to  the  Father  Supe- 
rior, as  a  postscript  to  the  first,  announcing  that 
this  same  escaped  novice,  referred  to  in  his 
earlier  epistle,  had  taken  passage  upon  the  ship 
which  bore  the  letters. 


[144] 


HER<>*MEETS 


GREAT-KI1VO 


»N^jg0y"* 


HE    EXPERIENCES    OF 

the  eight  vital  years  which 
had  elapsed  since  Robert 
Cavelier  set  foot  upon  the 
soil  of  his  native  France  had 
not  been  such  as  to  prepare 
him  for  the  Court  life  which 
he  was  about  to  behold  in  the  fulness  of  its 
glory.  Yet  the  inheritance  of  a  noble  birth  ever 
holds  its  own,  and  the  gentle  qualities  which 
had  scarcely  before  been  called  into  existence 
easily  marked  him  for  the  gentleman  he  was. 
No  one  of  those  who  had  known  Robert  in 
Quebec,  save  those  who  understood  him  best, 
would  have  supposed  him  capable  of  throwing 
aside  so  completely  the  brusque  imperiousness 
and  the  colonial  bearing  which  characterised 
him  in  the  New  France,  to  become  a  polished 
courtier  in  the  midst  of  such  gorgeous  splen- 
dour as  that  of  the  Court  of  Louis  XIV. 

The  King  was  at  the  height  of  his  greatness 
and  popularity.    Colbert  had  contributed  largely 
10  [  145  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

to  this  by  his  retrenchments  in  the  waste  of  pub- 
lic moneys  and  his  untiring  persecution  of  dis- 
honest officials  who  had  gained  fortunes  in  the 
service  of  his  predecessor.  But  Colbert  did  not 
attempt  to  curtail  the  expenditures  of  his  extrav- 
agant master.  The  King's  demands  for  recreation 
were  steadily  increasing,  and  Colbert  provided 
the  ways  and  means  for  his  entertainment. 

Versailles  was  becoming  more  and  more  at- 
tractive to  Louis  XIV.  St.  Germain  had  a 
shadow  over  it,  in  the  King's  mind.  The  mag- 
nificent forest,  the  wonderful  terrace,  the  per- 
fection of  the  location,  seemed  to  all  others  to 
make  this  spot  the  ideal  setting  for  the  Court  of 
such  a  king.  But  the  others  did  not  remember 
as  did  Louis  XIV.  that  it  was  hither  that  he 
had  been  taken  one  night  many  years  before, 
driven  from  Paris  by  the  troubles  of  the  Fronde  ; 
nor  did  they  realise  how  suggestively  the  steeple 
of  St.  Denis  indicated  that  final  burial-place  of 
royalty.  The  first  thought  was  an  insult  to  his 
childish  majesty ;  the  second,  a  disagreeable 
reminder  of  the  end  of  all  earthly  pretensions. 

St.  Germain,  then,  with  all  its  natural  beau- 
ties, was  abandoned,  and  Versailles  became 
its  rival.  This  was  to  be  a  Paradise  in  which 
no  single  Adam  and  Eve  were  to  bask  in  the 
fulness  of  the  sun  or  in  the  gentle  rays  of  the 
moon,  —  but  rather  an  Olympian  Jove  and 

[146] 


MEETS    A    GREAT    KING 

many  goddesses.  Nor  was  the  Serpent  to  enter 
here  but  once.  Art  and  riches  could  defeat  the 
barrenness  of  Old  Mother  Nature  at  Versailles, 
but  neither  could  keep  the  tempter  from  enter- 
ing its  confines.  Smiles  sought  to  hide  jealousy  ; 
courtly  salutes  endeavoured  to  conceal  hatred ; 
fair  words  tried  to  mask  deception,  —  but  all 
in  vain.  Even  the  seemingly  powerful  Monte- 
span  knew  in  her  heart  that  her  influence  was 
waning,  and  that  she  walked  upon  a  smoulder- 
ing volcano. 

Mansard,  Levau,  and  Darbay  had  already 
received  from  the  King  commissions  to  prepare 
plans  for  the  marvelous  changes  and  additions 
which  were  to  be  undertaken.  Louis  was  fairly 
beside  himself  with  enthusiasm  and  could  think 
of  little  else.  Colbert  must  needs  plan  better 
than  ever  before  to  provide  for  the  unlimited 
demands  upon  the  public  treasury.  Colbert 
must  be  practical  while  the  King  was  making 
his  silk  purse  out  of  the  sow's  ear. 

Robert  presented  himself  to  the  Minister 
promptly  upon  his  arrival,  and  Colbert  found  in 
the  story  of  his  mission  a  pleasant  diversion  from 
the  monotony  of  plans  and  payments.  More 
than  this,  Frontenac's  letters  were  too  strong 
in  their  statements  as  to  the  value  of  Robert's 
services  to  permit  his  visit  to  pass  by  without 
proper  consideration.  If  Versailles  grew  much 
[147] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

larger  or  much  more  elaborate  in  the  King's 
mind,  Colbert  would  surely  need  to  levy  upon 
New  France  for  substantial  aid ;  and  "  Master 
Robert  Cavelier,"  so  read  the  letter  from  Gov- 
ernor Frontenac,  "  is  more  capable  than  anybody 
else  I  know  in  the  colony  to  accomplish  every 
kind  of  enterprise  and  discovery  which  may  be 
intrusted  to  him."  Surely  Master  Cavelier 
must  receive  an  audience  and  be  encouraged 
in  his  service  for  the  King. 

Colbert  could  not  fail  to  be  impressed  by  the 
interview  he  had  with  Robert.  The  discovery 
of  the  Mississippi  interested  him  as  a  means  of 
extending  the  name  and  influence  of  France, 
but  Robert's  suggestion  as  to  the  fur-trade  and 
what  it  might  be  made  to  yield  interested 
him  still  more. 

It  was  not  difficult  for  Robert  to  comprehend 
the  situation,  and  he  clearly  and  boldly  outlined 
his  proposition.  Forts  should  be  built  and  in- 
vested with  French  soldiers,  trading  privileges 
should  be  sold  and  not  given  away,  and  the 
Crown  itself  should  enter  into  partnership  with 
the  traders,  reaping  the  lion's  share  of  the  gains. 
Frontenac  himself,  as  Governor,  should  be  in- 
trusted with  the  allotment  and  leasing  of  ter- 
ritory, which  would  increase  his  value  to  the 
King  and  his  importance  in  the  Colony.  As 
an  example  of  the  possibilities,  Robert  himself 

[148] 


MEETS    A    GREAT    KING 

proposed  to  purchase  for  ten  thousand  francs  a 
grant  in  seigniory  near  Fort  Frontenac  and  to 
guarantee  two-thirds  of  all  the  profits  to  the 
Crown. 

The  plan  was  an  attractive  one  ;  particularly 
so,  as  it  permitted  the  Crown  to  assume  the 
position  of  Protector  and  Benefactor,  while 
at  the  same  time  an  increased  income  was 
assured  the  royal  treasury.  The  Minister  has- 
tened to  lay  the  matter  before  the  King, 
with  the  result  that  Robert  was  summoned  to 
appear  at  Versailles. 

Louis  XIV.  was  no  sluggard.  Eight  hours 
out  of  every  day  were  devoted  to  affairs  of 
state,  and  the  King's  knowledge  of  condi- 
tions and  transactions  was  much  more  intimate 
than  was  generally  imagined.  Especially  was 
he  conversant  with  what  occurred  in  New 
France,  thanks  to  the  interest  inspired  by 
Father  La  Chaise  through  Madame  de  Mainte- 
non,  —  a  source  of  information  of  which  as  yet 
he  had  not  seen  fit  to  speak  to  his  worthy 
Minister. 

The  royal  summons  commanded  Robert  to 
present  himself  at  the  grand  lever  of  the  King ; 
and  although  this  necessitated  covering  the  fif- 
teen miles  between  Paris  and  Versailles  before 
eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Robert  found 
himself  in  the  famous  room  of  the  (Eil  de 

[149] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

Bceuf  some  time  in  advance  of  the  hour.  The 
brisk  ride  from  Paris,  through  the  Bois  de  Bou- 
logne, along  the  Seine,  past  the  hamlets  which 
later  became  St.  Cloud,  Sevres,  and  Viroflay, 
filled  him  with  intense  interest  and  anticipation. 
As  he  crossed  the  river  at  St.  Cloud  he  saw  a 
ship  lying  at  anchor  in  the  stream,  and  it 
brought  back  earlier  memories  of  the  time 
when  he  was  "  Jacques  Moulin  "  and  a  fugitive. 
If  Jean's  words  were  true,  he  was  no  less  a 
fugitive  now ;  but  he  refused  to  treat  the 
threat  with  even  serious  consideration.  On  he 
galloped  through  the  long  park,  grand  in  its 
artificial  and  costly  beauty,  his  horse's  hoofs 
ringing  loud  upon  the  heavy  stones  of  the  Cour 
Royale.  And  now  he  was  within  the  famous 
palace,  a  single  wall  separating  him  from  his 
most  glorious  sovereign ! 

Already  the  room  was  well  filled  with  those 
most  closely  associated  with  the  King,  awaiting 
the  moment  when  Monsieur  Bontemps,  the 
first  valet,  should  throw  open  the  great  door 
which  separated  the  reception-room  from  the 
royal  apartments,  thus  giving  the  signal  that 
His  Majesty  was  ready  to  receive  the  Court. 
Robert,  being  unacquainted  with  the  others 
who  awaited  the  King's  pleasure,  retired  to  one 
of  the  two  large  windows  overlooking  the  Cour 
de  Marbre,  from  which  position  he  could  watch 

[150] 


MEETS    A    GREAT    KING 

the  late  comers,  and  also  keep  an  interested  eye 
upon  what  took  place  within  the  room. 

Standing  or  sitting  about  a  long  table  placed 
between  the  second  and  third  window-doors 
leading  into  the  Galerie  des  Glaces,  an  ani- 
mated group  was  discussing  the  plans  for  the 
additions  and  extensions  to  the  palace  which 
just  now  so  occupied  Louis'  attention.  Man- 
sard, the  chief  architect,  was  explaining  in 
detail  the  magnificent  scheme  which  he  had 
outlined  upon  a  great  sheet  of  paper  spread 
out  upon  the  table,  and  which  he  was  about 
to  present  to  the  King  for  his  royal  approval. 
With  him  were  Levau  and  Darbay,  his  asso- 
ciates, Le  Notre  and  Blondel,  who  were  to 
assist  in  the  architectural  work,  Puget,  Cey- 
sevox,  Girardon,  and  Desjardins,  the  sculptors 
in  whose  hands  this  portion  of  the  work  was 
to  be  placed,  and  Le  Brun  and  Laguerre,  who 
were  to  execute  and  supervise  the  paintings 
and  the  decorations.  Standing  near  the  fire- 
place were  Racine  and  Boileau,  discussing  lit- 
erature and  poetry.  At  the  window  next  to 
that  at  which  Robert  stood,  so  near  that  he 
could  not  avoid  overhearing  the  conversation, 
were  Lulli,  the  composer,  and  Bensarade,  ar- 
ranging with  President  de  Perigny  the  details 
of  the  coming  fete.  The  assemblage  was 
largely  made  up  of  representatives  of  art  and 
[151] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

letters,  this  being  the  King's  leaning  at  the 
moment.  The  nobility  of  the  Court  yielded 
precedence  to  them  at  Versailles,  well  knowing 
that  Louis'  present  devotion  would  be  at  best 
short-lived. 

But  Robert  had  not  been  wholly  unobserved. 
Somewhat  apart  from  the  animated  group  dis- 
cussing Versailles  and  its  improvements  was  a 
young  man  whose  bearing  marked  him  as  a 
noble  of  the  highest  rank.  He  had  grown 
weary  of  the  subject  which  now  formed  almost 
the  only  topic  of  conversation,  and  awaited 
the  opening  of  the  door  with  evident  ennui. 
Glancing  around  the  room,  his  eye  fell  upon 
Robert  standing  by  the  window,  and  the 
strength  of  the  figure,  together  with  the  quiet 
intensity  of  the  stranger's  survey  of  his  sur- 
roundings, at  once  attracted  his  attention.  Im- 
pulsively he  crossed  the  room  and  approached 
Robert. 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,"  he  said ;  "  I  note  that 
you  are  a  stranger  here,  and  perchance  I  can 
be  of  service  to  you.  I  am  Louis- Armand 
de  Bourbon,  Prince  de  Conti ;  command  me, 
I  pray  you." 

The  name  was  well  known  to  Robert,  and 
the  Prince's  courtesy  most  welcome.  He 
needed  little  encouragement,  therefore,  to  give 
his  new  acquaintance  a  brief  but  clear  idea 

[152] 


MEETS    A    GREAT    KING 

of  himself  and  his  errand  to  the  King.  The 
Prince  became  much  interested  in  the  vigor- 
ous young  man  before  him,  even  in  the  brief 
time  they  were  together,  and  he  invited  Robert 
to  seek  him  again  before  his  return  to  Paris. 

In  the  meantime  Monsieur  Bontemps  and 
the  other  servants  of  the  King  had  been  per- 
forming their  daily  duties  within  the  royal 
bedchamber.  It  was  an  ample  apartment, 
with  large  marble  mantels  between  the  doors 
at  either  end.  The  front  wall  of  the  room 
was  broken  by  three  great  windows,  which 
would  have  flooded  the  chamber  with  light 
save  for  the  heavy  Gobelin  tapestries  drawn 
across  them.  In  the  centre  stood  the  splendid 
canopied  bed  which,  together  with  the  other 
furniture,  cost  Simon  Delobel,  tapissier.,  twelve 
years  of  labour.  On  either  side  of  this  master- 
piece, upon  the  high  walls,  hung  Raphael's  "  St. 
John  "  and  Domenichino's  "  David."  Around 
the  bed  a  balustrade  was  placed,  within  which 
none  might  enter  save  the  King  and  his  first 
valet. 

On  this  particular  morning,  while  Monsieur 
Bontemps  was  patiently  awaiting  the  moment 
when  the  hands  of  the  clock  should  reach  the 
hour  of  eight,  that  worthy  functionary  was 
horrified  to  see  the  heavy  curtains  of  the  bed 
suddenly  separate,  and  to  hear  the  voice  of 
[153] 


his  royal  master,  showing  that  he  had  awak- 
ened without  assistance. 

"  Bontemps ! " 

"  Yes,  Sire." 

"  Is  it  yet  eight  o'clock  ? " 

"  Not  yet,  Sire  ;  it  still  lacks  seven  minutes." 

"  Never  mind  ;  summon  the  others.  I  will 
arise." 

The  first  valet  hastened  to  call  in  from  an 
antechamber,  in  which  they  had  awaited  this 
moment,  the  members  of  the  King's  household 
upon  whom  the  various  duties  fell.  The  cur- 
tains were  drawn  aside,  the  marvelous  counter- 
pane adorned  with  the  "Triumph  of  Venus" 
was  laid  back,  and  Louis  solemnly  kissed  the 
crucifix  which  Father  La  Chaise  held  out  to 
him.  As  the  white-haired  ecclesiastic  fell  back, 
the  noble  courtiers  to  whom  the  King's  toilet 
was  intrusted  took  temporary  possession  of 
his  person ;  and  at  nine  o'clock  exactly,  having 
been  dressed,  and  breakfasted,  the  King,  seated 
in  a  large  armchair  before  the  fire,  was  pre- 
pared for  his  grand  lever. 

One  of  the  great  doors  leading  from  the 
room  of  the  (Eil  de  Bceuf  was  thrown  open, 
and  the  King's  chamber  quickly  filled.  Robert 
kept  in  the  background  awaiting  the  proper  mo- 
ment to  present  himself.  Each  one  upon  enter- 
ing the  room  bowed  low  three  times  and  solemnly 

[154] 


MEETS    A    GREAT    KING 

kissed  the  King's  hand.  After  this  ceremony 
many  of  the  courtiers  either  again  retired  to  the 
room  of  the  (Eil  de  Boeuf  or  gathered  in  groups 
in  different  parts  of  the  chamber.  Robert  was 
the  last  to  salute  the  King,  and  as  he  approached 
him  he  was  much  relieved  to  see  Colbert  stand- 
ing near  by.  The  Minister  returned  Robert's 
greeting,  and  presented  him  to  the  King. 

"  This  is  Monsieur  Cavelier,  Sire,  whom  you 
have  summoned  in  response  to  Governor  Fron- 
tenac's  request." 

"  From  New  France,  say  you  ?  "  asked  Louis. 

"  Yes,  Sire  ;  these  are  the  documents." 

The  King  carefully  regarded  the  papers  which 
Colbert  handed  to  him  before  addressing  Robert, 
giving  the  latter  ample  opportunity  to  remark 
Louis'  incontestable  yet  manly  beauty,  both  of 
face  and  form.  His  majesty  of  bearing  and  king- 
liness  of  countenance  were  not  assumed,  but 
were  an  inalienable  part  of  his  personality.  No 
one  ever  came  close  to  the  great  King  without 
feeling  his  genuine  imperiousness  and  the  ele- 
gance of  language  and  manners  which  distin- 
guished him  above  all  his  nobles. 

"  You  are  young  to  have  undergone  such  ad- 
ventures as  we  understand  have  fallen  to  your 
lot,"  said  the  King  at  last. 

"  In  New  France,  Sire,  there  is  no  youth," 
replied  Robert ;  "  the  boy  becomes  the  man  so 
[155] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

soon  as  he  can  raise  a  musket  to  his  shoulder 
and  can  shout  *  God  save  the  King ! ' 

"  Well  spoken,  Monsieur  Cavelier.  Right 
glad  are  we  to  know  that  our  infant  colony  doth 
breed  such  offspring.  And  are  you  certain  of 
the  facts  which  Colbert  has  presented  us  regard- 
ing your  projects  in  our  behalf  ?  " 

"  Quite  certain,  Sire.  His  Excellency  the 
Governor  also  certifies  my  statements." 

"  Ay,  but  our  friend  the  Comte  de  Fronte- 
nac  doth  ever  make  fair  promises,  with  little  in 
the  way  of  grand  accomplishment." 

"  The  Governor,  Sire,  doth  ever  work  against 
great  odds." 

"  Explain  your  meaning,  sir,"  said  the  King, 
quickly. 

Robert  hesitated.  Perhaps  he  had  been  too 
bold.  He  must  be  careful  of  his  words  now. 

"  Such  obstacles,  Sire,  as  one  must  ever  meet 
in  taming  a  country  even  more  savage  than  the 
Indians  themselves." 

"Ah.!  we  feared  that  you  had  complaints  to 
make  against  the  worthy  priests,  of  whom 
the  Governor  often  makes  mention  in  his  letters 
to  us  ;  and  that  would  surely  prove  unwelcome. 
Is  it  not  so,  father  ? "  continued  the  King,  re- 
ferring the  question  to  Pere  La  Chaise,  who 
stood  beside  him. 

"Even  so,  Your  Majesty.  Your  wisdom 
[156] 


MEETS    A    GREAT    KING 

has  discovered  how  libelous  are  all  attacks 
against  our  brethren,  who  are  devoting  their 
life-blood  to  the  salvation  of  New  France." 

"  I  have  come  to  you,  Sire,"  said  Robert, 
hastily,  "to  speak  against  no  man,  but  rather 
to  explain  more  fully  than  perchance  is  known 
here  how  great  the  obstacles,  yet  also  how  great 
the  possibilities  are  in  this  wonderful  country 
across  the  seas.  With  a  few  regiments  of 
soldiers  Frontenac  could  hold  for  France  a 
vaster  empire  than  France  herself,  and  could 
restrain  England  from  acquiring  territory,  - 
which  she  will  surely  do  unless  vigorously 
opposed." 

"  We  do  not  understand  that  you  have  come 
to  ask  us  regiments  for  Frontenac,"  observed  the 
King,  coldly.  "  We  have  present  need  of  sol- 
diers here,  and  our  treasury  cannot  be  endan- 
gered until  Versailles  is  complete.  You  came, 
we  think,  to  speak  of  income  for  the  Crown, 
and  not  of  outgo." 

Robert  flushed  deeply.  Frontenac  could 
look  for  nothing  here,  and  his  cause  was  being 
injured  rather  than  improved  by  the  turn  the 
conversation  had  taken. 

"  Pardon,  Sire ;  I  had  no  right  to  speak  of 
this.  The  limits  of  my  mission  are  fully  laid 
down  within  those  papers." 

"  Now  you  are  reasonable  again,"  said  Louis, 
[157] 


mollified  by  Robert's  attitude.  "  And  you  have 
hopes  of  reaching  the  great  river  of  the  Ohio, 
Monsieur  Cavelier,  with  our  assistance  ? " 

"  Most  surely,  Sire.  If  I  may  draw  upon  the 
soldiers  at  Quebec  I  am  assured  that  the  great- 
est river  of  the  New  World  may  be  found  and 
held  for  France." 

"  And  this  fur-trade  of  which  you  speak,  — 
is  it  of  sufficient  import  to  warrant  our  super- 
vision ? " 

"With  proper  care,  Sire,  the  fur-trade  of 
New  France  may  be  made  to  yield  the  Crown 
a  noble  income.  At  present  trading- companies 
are  loath  to  tell  how  great  their  profits  are. 
Were  they  controlled  by  royal  supervision  they 
might  still  make  rare  returns  while  giving 
richly  to  the  Crown." 

"Your  judgment  does  you  credit,  Monsieur 
Cavelier.  We  will  carefully  consider  your  pe- 
titions, and  Colbert  shall  report  our  pleasure 
concerning  them." 

Robert  retired  from  his  audience  with  the 
King  satisfied  enough  with  his  own  immediate 
prospects,  since  he  knew  that  he  had  touched  a 
vital  point  in  the  necessities  of  the  treasury ; 
but  he  was  thoroughly  discouraged  by  the  evi- 
dence of  the  hostile  powers  at  work  against 
Frontenac  and  New  France.  His  heart  was 
sore  for  his  friend  whose  ultimate  defeat  he 

[158] 


MEETS    A    GREAT    KING 

could  clearly  foresee,  and  for  his  foster-country, 
for  which  he  felt  a  loyal  attachment. 

Now  that  his  audience  with  the  King  was 
ended,  Robert  was  free  to  undertake  the  mission 
which  lay  even  closer  to  his  heart.  Here  he 
was  in  France,  yet  apparently  Anne  was  as 
completely  hidden  from  him  as  if  he  had  been 
back  in  Quebec ;  and  he  knew  not  where  to 
seek  her.  Robert  tried  to  plan  out  how  best  to 
begin  this  new  undertaking,  but  he  found  him- 
self more  baffled  than  he  had  been  even  in  the 
midst  of  the  primeval  forests. 

Suddenly  he  remembered  his  meeting  with 
the  Prince  de  Conti,  and  the  generous  offer  of 
assistance.  Perchance  this  was  the  solution. 
At  all  events  he  would  make  the  trial.  It  was 
not  difficult  to  locate  so  important  a  personage 
as  the  Prince,  and  a  half-hour  later  Robert 
found  himself  closeted  with  him  at  the  palace. 

"  I  little  thought  to  trespass  so  soon  upon 
your  kind  offer,"  said  Robert,  as  he  saluted  the 
Prince. 

"  A  better  proof  that  you  believed  me  sincere 
in  making  it,"  answered  the  Prince,  pleasantly. 
"  Did  not  your  project  fare  well  in  the  King's 
hands  this  morning  ? " 

"  Entirely  so,"  answered  Robert,  realising 
that  the  Prince  would  naturally  misinterpret  the 
nature  of  his  errand  ;  "  His  Majesty  received 
[159] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

me  and  my  petitions  with  more  favour  than  I 
could  well  have  expected,  and  I  look  for  a 
successful  outcome.  In  the  meantime  I  come 
to  ask  if  perchance  you  can  tell  me  the  where- 
abouts of  one  Monsieur  de  Courcelle  and  of  his 
daughter,  Mademoiselle  Anne,  whom  I  had  the 
honour  to  know  in  New  France." 

The  Prince  regarded  Robert  for  a  moment 
with  an  expression  which  seemed  to  question 
whether  or  not  his  visitor  was  serious  ;  but  the 
eagerness  with  which  Robert  awaited  his  reply 
settled  any  doubt  in  the  matter. 

"  MademoiseUe  de  Courcelle  is  at  this  moment 
probably  not  a  hundred  feet  from  where  you  sit, 
since  the  apartments  of  Madame  la  Duchesse 
d'Orleans,  whose  maid  of  honour  she  is,  adjoin 
these  very  rooms." 

Robert  sprang  to  his  feet  in  astonishment, 
unable  to  control  himself.  Anne  in  Versailles, 
so  near  to  him,  when  he  supposed  her  at  least 
leagues  away !  He  could  scarcely  believe  his 
ears.  The  Prince  watched  his  excitement  with 
evident  enjoyment,  but  his  next  words  brought 
Robert  again  to  himself. 

"You  did  not  tell  me  this  morning  all  the 
motives  which  brought  you  to  France,  Monsieur 
Cavelier." 

"I  crave  your  pardon,"  answered  Robert, 
quite  chagrined.  "It  is  true  that  I  have  been 

[160] 


MEETS    A    GREAT    KING 

even  more  anxious  to  see  Mademoiselle  de  Cour- 
celle  than  to  see  the  King.  You  have  learned 
my  secret,  but  I  trust  that  my  astonishment  at 
your  unexpected  words  has  not  caused  offence. 
More  than  four  years  have  passed  since  last  we 
met." 

"Do  you  know  the  lady  well,  Monsieur?" 
asked  the  Prince. 

"  She  is  my  affianced  wife,"  answered  Robert, 
simply. 

"Then  congratulations  are  surely  your  due, 
sir.  Mademoiselle  de  Courcelle  is  counted 
among  the  fairest  of  the  ladies  of  the  Court." 

"  I  thank  you  more  than  I  can  tell  for  your 
welcome  tidings ;  and  will  you  place  me  still 
further  in  your  debt  by  telling  me  how  to  reach 
her  ?  I  know  little  of  Court  requirements,  hav- 
ing lived  so  long  amidst  other  scenes.  'Twas 
this  service  that  I  came  to  ask." 

"  'T  is  a  more  difficult  proposition  than  you 
imagine,  monsieur,  since  to-morrow  night  comes 
the  King's  fete,  for  which  every  one  is  making 
preparation.  I  fear  that  you  must  wait  until 
after  this  event  has  taken  place ;  then  I  will 
gladly  assist  you  in  arranging  for  the  meeting." 

The  conversation  turned  upon  other  topics, 

and  Robert  found  the  Prince  eager  to  learn  of 

the  New  World  and  of  the  adventures  through 

which  he  himself  had  passed.     His  eye  flashed 

11  [  161  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

as  his  visitor  related  the  story  of  Frontenac's 
constant  struggles  against  the  Jesuits,  —  a  sub- 
ject which  Robert  rightly  surmised  would  in- 
terest him. 

"  He  is  a  brave  man,"  he  said,  as  Robert 
paused  for  a  moment,  "  but  he  is  fighting  against 
greater  odds  than  he  knows.  If  Madame  de 
Maintenon  holds  her  present  sway  over  the 
King,  the  Jesuits  will  carry  every  point.  Take 
to  him  from  me,  and  accept  for  yourself,  my 
earnest  friendship ;  and  call  upon  me  for  any 
assistance  I  can  render." 

The  patronage  of  the  Prince  de  Conti  was 
indeed  of  value,  and  Robert  accepted  the  prof- 
fered friendship  with  deep  gratitude.  He  knew 
well  how  gratified  Frontenac  would  be  to  learn 
of  this  powerful  ally  at  Court,  and  was  glad  to 
have  something  to  offset  the  disappointment 
which  a  knowledge  of  general  conditions  was 
sure  to  bring  him.  When  on  the  following 
day,  therefore,  Colbert  announced  to  him  that 
the  King  had  granted  his  petitions,  his  political 
mission  became  a  complete  success.  He  re- 
ceived letters-patent  for  his  explorations,  the 
grand  seigniory  of  Fort  Frontenac  was  bestowed 
upon  him,  and  in  addition  to  this  he  found  him- 
self elevated  to  the  rank  of  an  untitled  noble, 
with  the  right  to  call  vhimself  the  Sieur  de  La 
Salle. 

[162] 


MEETS    A    GREAT    KING 

And  Anne  was  at  Versailles !  Truly  the 
future  seemed  bright  for  Robert  Cavelier ;  and 
he  patiently  awaited  on  that  thirty-first  of 
August  the  coming  and  the  going  of  the 
grand  fete,  of  which  he  had  heard  so  much 
during  his  brief  sojourn  in  France. 


[163] 


CHAPTER  XI 

-THE- 

SIEURPELA'SALLI 
FINDStArKARE-GEM 


REPARATIONS     FOR 

the  grand  fete  had  required 
months  of  labour,  and  Col- 
bert was  forced  to  draw  again 
upon  Fouquet's  apparently 
limitless  wealth.  The  only 
silver  lining  to  the  Minister's 
cloud  was  that  even  a  Fouquet  must  at  length 
be  ruined  by  drafts  such  as  these  ;  and  when  this 
happy  event  was  realised,  he  would  have  admin- 
istered justice  upon  one  more  of  those  who  had 
reaped  a  golden  harvest  under  Mazarin's  regime. 
At  last  the  long-anticipated  day  arrived,  and 
the  Court  assembled  in  all  its  gorgeous  brilliancy. 
The  festivities  began  in  the  morning  with  a 
great  hunt,  when  the  Queen,  with  Madame  de 
Montpensier  and  Mademoiselle  d'Alen9on,  rode 
in  Amazonian  costumes  ;  in  the  afternoon  a 
tournament  was  held  which  in  magnificence 
quite  surpassed  anything  of  the  kind  which 
France  had  seen.  One  has  but  to  turn  to  the 
"  Gazette  "  of  that  day  to  read  of  the  wonderful 
[164] 


FINDS    A    RARE    GEM 

cortege  of  Court  ladies,  "  all  admirably  equipped 
and  on  selected  horses,  led  by  Madame,  in  a 
most  superb  vest  and  seated  on  a  white  horse 
with  trappings  of  brocade  sewn  with  pearls  and 
precious  stones.  Following  the  ladies  appeared 
the  Sun- King,  not  less  easily  recognised  by  the 
lofty  mien  peculiar  to  him  than  by  his  rich 
Hungarian  habit,  covered  with  gold  and  gems, 
his  helmet  with  waving  plumes,  and  the  spirited 
horse  which  seemed  prouder  of  carrying  so  great 
a  monarch  than  of  its  magnificent  trappings  and 
its  jewelled  saddle-cloth."  Behind  the  King 
came  Monsieur  his  brother  in  Turkish  costume ; 
then  followed  the  Due  d  'Enghien  in  Indian  dis- 
guise ;  and  behind  him  might  be  seen  the  other 
noblemen,  who  formed  ten  quadrilles. 

All  the  festivities  were  but  an  introduction 
to  the  grand  consummation  which  was  to  follow. 
The  King  had  bent  all  his  energies  to  make 
this  fete  one  long  to  be  remembered  in  the  his- 
tory of  his  reign,  and  Versailles  responded  nobly 
to  his  demands.  It  was  a  dark  and  starless 
night  as  the  guests  stepped  forth  from  the  ban- 
quet hall,  joining  the  vast  number  of  courtiers 
with  their  ladies  who  had  not  been  fortunate 
enough  to  be  invited  to  the  banquet,  but  who 
had  assembled  to  join  in  the  later  festivities. 

Of  a  sudden  a  wonderful  transformation  took 
place.     The   circumference   of  the  parterre  of 
[165] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

Latona,  the  grand  alley,  the  terrace,  and  the 
front  of  the  palace  became  decorated  with 
statues,  vases,  and  chandeliers  weirdly  lighted  in 
such  a  fashion  as  to  make  them  glow  as  if  from 
inward  flames.  Then  the  parterres  burst  into 
light,  and  a  double  row  of  torches,  perhaps  two 
feet  apart,  illuminated  the  grand  terrace  in  front 
of  the  chateau.  Myriads  of  lights  sprang  into 
sight  along  the  steps  and  railings  of  the  horse- 
shoe, on  top  of  the  walls,  around  the  foun- 
dations, along  the  reservoirs  and  the  borders 
of  the  grand  canal.  From  Stygian  darkness 
the  scene  was  transformed  into  a  brilliantly- 
lighted  fairy  garden. 

The  King  and  the  Queen  led  the  assemblage 
down  the  broad  walk  to  the  edge  of  the  grand 
canal.  It  was  indeed  a  remarkable  gathering. 
There  was  the  new  Duchesse  d'Orleans,  the 
Princess  Palatine,  who  was  married  to  the 
King's  brother  after  the  suspicious  death  of 
Henrietta  of  England.  Even  amidst  revels  such 
as  these  she  never  forgot  nor  ceased  to  long  for 
her  beloved  Germany,  just  as  Henrietta  had 
longed  for  the  England  which  she  never  saw 
again.  There  was  Mademoiselle  de  la  Valliere, 
no  longer  Louis'  favourite,  but  still  prominent 
in  Court  because  of  her  legitimated  daughter, 
Mademoiselle  de  Blois,  who  afterwards  became 
the  Princesse  de  Conti.  Her  blue  eyes  always 

[166] 


Engraved  by  John  Andrew  <t  Son 


THE  F£TE  AT  VERSAILLES 

"  The  King  and  the  Queen  led  the  assemblage  down  the  broad 
walk  to  the  edge  of  the  grand  canal" 


FINDS    A    RARE    GEM 

showed  the  effects  of  weeping  now,  for  although 
her  hair  was  as  fair,  her  complexion  as  beautiful, 
her  smile  as  agreeable,  and  her  look  as  tender, 
the  King  had  no  thought  of  her.  This  fete  at 
Versailles  was  the  song  of  the  dying  swan  for 
her.  Two  months  later  she  retired  into  the 
depths  of  a  cloister,  where  as  Sister  Louise  of 
Mercy  she  prayed  constantly  for  the  King's 
conversion. 

Gayest  among  all  the  royal  company  was 
Madame  de  Montespan.  She  had  won  Louis 
away  from  La  Valliere,  and  was  gallantly  en- 
deavouring to  prevent  the  dark  cloud  gathering 
upon  her  horizon  from  breaking  into  force. 
She  was  taller  than  the  average,  with  soft, 
delicate  features  and  sparkling  eyes.  Her  neck 
was  admirably  turned,  and  her  golden  hair  fell  in 
luxuriant  tresses  upon  her  beautifully-moulded 
shoulders.  She  still  played  her  part  well,  but 
she  was  too  clever  a  diplomat  not  to  know 
in  her  heart  that  it  was  to  Madame  de  Main- 
tenon,  the  governess  whom  she  herself  had 
introduced  in  Court,  that  Louis  now  turned 
for  advice  and  companionship. 

The  new  favourite,  who  was  to  hold  over 
the  Sun- King  the  most  powerful  sway  of  all 
in  his  whole  career,  and  who  was  to  succeed 
in  claiming  him  as  husband  as  well  as  lover, 
walked  with  a  serenity  and  a  dignity  only 

[167] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

equalled  by  the  King  himself.  She  was  fair 
in  complexion,  yet  her  eyes  were  black,  with  a 
depth  which  spoke  to  the  heart  as  no  words 
could  ever  do.  She  formed  a  perfect  foil  to 
Montespan's  forced  vivacity,  yet  gained  by  each 
comparison.  She  was  beautiful,  and  her  fea- 
tures taken  one  by  one  showed  little  to  be 
wished  for  and  nothing  with  which  to  find 
fault,  yet  it  was  not  her  beauty  that  formed 
her  greatest  charm.  It  was  that  same  dignity 
in  mental  as  well  as  in  physical  poise  which 
forced  the  King  to  acknowledge  her  his  most 
valued  counselor.  More  than  this,  her  abso- 
lute though  ever  courteous  indifference,  feigned 
or  real  as  it  may  have  been,  held  Louis'  devo- 
tion as  no  effort  of  any  other  favourite  had  ever 
done. 

These  were  the  personages  most  observed  as 
the  banqueting  party  proceeded  to  the  grand 
canal  and  embarked  in  richly-decorated  gon- 
dolas. Musicians  upon  other  boats  began  to 
play  the  music  which  Lulli  had  composed  es- 
pecially for  the  occasion.  Those  who  made  up 
the  magnificent  cortege  wandered  through  the 
park,  or  seated  themselves  at  the  many  tables 
which  had  been  placed  in  every  available  spot 
of  the  garden,  there  to  converse  among  them- 
selves, and  to  enjoy  the  enchanting  splendour 
of  the  scene. 

[168] 


FINDS    A    RARE    GEM 

The  newly  created  Sieur  de  La  Salle  walked 
aimlessly  through  the  giddy  throng.  Here 
indeed  was  a  striking  contrast  to  the  manner 
of  life  which  even  the  capital  of  New  France 
afforded.  Robert  was  dazzled  by  the  scene, 
but  to  him  it  had  no  greater  meaning  than  a 
possible  opportunity  of  meeting  Anne  Courcelle. 
She  would  of  course  attend  the  fete,  and  he 
hoped  at  least  to  gain  a  sight  of  her.  And  if 
he  found  her,  —  what  then  ?  She  had  loved 
him  in  Quebec,  but  four  years  had  passed  since 
that  time,  and  how  could  her  heart  hold  true 
amidst  surroundings  such  as  he  now  beheld  ? 
In  New  France  Mistress  Anne  Courcelle,  even 
though  she  was  the  Governor's  daughter,  was 
not  so  great  a  lady  as  was  Mademoiselle  de 
Courcelle,  maid  of  honour  to  the  Princess  Pala- 
tine, at  Versailles ;  and  Master  Robert  Cavelier, 
even  now  that  he  had  become  the  Sieur  de  La 
Salle,  knew  himself  to  be  no  more  than  an 
adventurer.  He  was  of  noble  birth,  but  his 
past  was  blotted  out  when  he  entered  the 
House  of  the  Novices  at  Paris  ;  and  since  then 
his  life  had  been  far  removed  from  courts  and 
splendours.  Thus  he  reasoned,  but  it  was  the 
mind  which  argued.  His  heart  possessed  no 
doubt.  No  image  other  than  fair  Mistress 
Anne  had  ever  entered  there,  and  it  felt  a 
certainty  of  similar  loyalty  in  return. 
[169] 


As  Robert  strolled  leisurely  through  the  park, 
in  and  out  among  the  revelers,  he  was  attracted 
by  a  gay  company  of  nobles  and  ladies  seated 
about  one  of  the  tables.  He  drew  nearer  to 
them,  and  in  the  shadow  of  a  tree  regarded 
them  with  indifferent  interest.  The  ladies  of 
the  party  were  known  to  him  by  sight,  but  the 
gallants  with  them  were  strangers.  There  was 
Mademoiselle  de  Lenclos,  an  intimate  friend  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon.  Beside  her  were  Ma- 
demoiselle de  Charente  and  Mademoiselle  de 
Montalais,  two  maids  of  honour  to  the  Princess 
Palatine.  All  were  entering  fully  into  the  fes- 
tivities, and  commented  upon  the  passers-by. 

"  Recite  us  a  verse,  Sir  Poet,"  said  Mademoi- 
selle de  Montalais  at  length,  turning  gaily  to 
the  courtier  sitting  opposite  her. 

"  Of  what  shall  I  sing,  fair  mistress  ?  "  he  re- 
plied, picking  up  a  guitar  which  he  had  unstrung 
from  his  shoulder. 

"  Sing  us  your  verses  to  Iris  ;  and  mind  that 
you  address  them  to  me  !  " 

The  courtier  struck  a  chord  upon  the  guitar, 
and  then  began,  in  a  low,  rich  voice  : 

T/rfHILST  I  was  with  you,  every  day, 

My  dove,  my  blooming  fair, 
I  viewed  your  charms,  I  heard  your  wit, 
Reardless  o   the  snare. 


vewe    your  carms, 
Regardless  of  the  snare. 


[170] 


FINDS    A    RARE    GEM 

"  But  from  your  sight  when  once  debarred, 

What  tortures  I  endured  ! 
Too  fierce,  too  violent,  alas! 
By  reason  to  be  cured. 

"  Parting,  which  ought  to  give  relief, 

But  added  to  my  pain; 
For  in  your  charms  still  faster  linked, 
I  struggled  still  in  vain. 

"  Obdurate  Iris  !  Cruel  Fair  ! 

To  kindle  such  ajlame  ; 
To  make  me  burn,  consume,  and  long 
For  what  I  durst  not  name. 

"  Should  I  my  passion  once  reveal, 
Your  anger  'twould  procure; 
And  should  I  keep  the  secret  close, 
My  dissolution 's  sure  !  "  * 

"  Bravo,  Sir  Poet !  Were  your  verses  as  good 
as  your  wit,  or  were  either  as  fine  as  your  voice, 
you  would  make  your  fortune  as  a  ballad- 
singer,"  said  Mademoiselle  de  Montalais  as  the 
singing  ceased. 

"  And  now,  Sir  Gallant,  will  you  own  your- 
self outdone  by  our  dreaming  poet  here  ?  "  she 
continued,  turning  to  the  second  courtier,  who 
had  been  paying  more  attention  to  Mademoi- 
selle de  Charente  than  to  the  song. 

1  Scarron  (1660). 

[171] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

"  Nay,  nay,  fair  mistress,"  he  replied  quickly. 
"  I  too  have  a  song  to  Iris,  but  't  is  shorter,  and 
therefore  better." 

"  Then  sing  it  to  us,"  commanded  Mademoi- 
selle de  Charente  ;  "  and  't  is  my  turn  to  be  the 
Iris.  I  will  judge  between  the  two." 

The  new  minstrel  did  not  wait  for  the  guitar 
to  accompany  him,  but  at  once  accepted  the 
challenge  : 


'  reason  tells  me  Womenkind 
-*•       Are  false,  inconstant  as  the  wind, 

And  rocks  which  men  should  fly  ; 
Yet  Iris  has  such  airs,  such  graces, 
And  so  divinely  fair  her  face  is, 

For  her  1  'd  freely  die."  1 

"  Ah,  would  that  I  were  Iris,  indeed  1  " 
sighed  Mademoiselle  de  Charente,  with  well- 
feigned  seriousness.  "  How  fair  speaks  the 
bard  when  he  addresses  the  mythical  Iris,  yet 
how  slow  he  ever  is  to  compose  such  speeches 
when  his  Iris  is  before  him  !  " 

"  Nay,  nay,  I  protest  !  "  exclaimed  the  singer 
who  had  just  ceased.  "  'T  is  ever  the  lady's 
fault  alone.  Had  you  but  seen  me  try  to 
speak  a  few  words  of  love  to  your  brown- 
eyed  companion,  Mademoiselle  de  Courcelle, 

1  Scan-on  (1660).    ' 

[172] 


FINDS    A    RARE    GEM 

but  yester-eve,  and  could  you  have  heard  the 
reproaches  laid  upon  my  head  by  the  haughty 
mistress,  I  swear  you  would  not  wonder  if  I 
held  my  peace  forever  more ! " 

Robert  started  forward,  straining  his  ears  to 
catch  the  words  of  the  speaker. 

"  Have  you  not  learned  that  Mademoiselle 
de  Courcelle's  heart  became  so  congealed  in 
those  awful  winters  of  Quebec  that  it  has 
never  yet  thawed  out?"  asked  Mademoiselle 
de  Montalais,  little  pleased  that  her  remark 
should  have  turned  the  conversation  upon  some 
one  else. 

"  But  seriously,  why  does  she  ever  hold  her- 
self so  far  aloof  from  all  the  others  ? "  contin- 
ued the  courtier.  "  She  smiles  at  one  with 
bewitching  grace,  and  converses  right  willingly ; 
but  let  one  so  much  as  breathe  a  word  of  love, 
and  she  draws  back  as  though  a  blow  were 
struck  her." 

Robert  listened  intently.  Could  it  be  that 
he  himself  held  the  answer  to  that  question, 
and  that  the  simple  pledge  which  had  been 
given  him  so  far  across  the  water  kept  her  thus 
true  to  their  old-time  love  ?  Unconsciously 
he  moved  nearer  to  the  group  as  Mademoiselle 
de  Charente  entered  into  the  conversation. 

"That  is  something  which  makes  us  all 
wonder  much.  I  think  Madame  likes  her  best 
[173] 


of  all  her  maids,  since  she  finds  in  her  a  re- 
sponse to  her  own  unhappiness.  Yet  never 
once  has  one  of  us  discovered  Mademoiselle 
de  Courcelle  save  with  a  smile  upon  her  lips. 
There  is  indeed  a  mystery  in  the  matter." 

Robert  lost  the  rest  of  the  conversation, 
moving  back  to  his  original  position  lest  he  be 
discovered  in  his  eavesdropping.  He  turned 
his  eyes  away  from  the  gay  revelers,  seeking 
to  picture  the  fair  face  which  now  seemed  but 
a  memory.  The  flickering  light  of  the  torches 
assisted  him,  for  it  cast  the  mental  resemblance 
upon  a  radiantly-beautiful  woman  coming  to- 
ward him.  Robert  smiled  to  himself  as  he 
became  conscious  of  a  resentment  which  en- 
tered his  heart ;  but  the  smile  suddenly  van- 
ished. This  was  no  hallucination  1  It  was 
Anne  herself ;  but  what  a  change  the  years  and 
the  surroundings  had  wrought !  He  had  ever 
thought  of  her  as  wearing  the  simple  dress 
in  which  she  was  clad  that  last  day  they  were 
together  in  Quebec ;  he  could  not  have  foreseen 
that  the  girl  of  eighteen  would  develop  into 
this  magnificent  woman  of  twenty-three.  The 
Court  dress,  the  gorgeous  environment,  the 
stately,  dignified  bearing,  as  she  walked  past 
him,  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  a  white-haired 
soldier,  bewildered  Robert  as  he  started  for- 
ward and  as  quickly  drew  back  again  into  his 
[174] 


FINDS    A    RARE    GEM 

retreat,  feasting  his  eyes  upon  the  dear  sight 
before  him. 

This  was  no  place  for  the  meeting,  where 
all  that  occurred  could  be  easily  observed  by 
those  other  curious  eyes  which  followed  her 
even  as  his  did.  He  would  wait  until  they 
gained  some  little  distance,  and  then  overtake 
them. 

The  moments  seemed  an  eternity,  but  soon 
Robert  stepped  quietly  out  into  the  broad 
walk  and  rapidly  gained  on  the  slow  pace 
which  Anne  and  her  father  were  taking.  How 
the  old  Governor  had  aged  since  Robert  had 
seen  him  !  He  was  almost  feeble,  yet  he  bore 
himself  with  the  same  soldierly  mien  with 
which  Robert  was  familiar.  The  young  man 
drew  near  to  them  and  quietly  spoke  one 
word : 

"  Anne  ! " 

The  girl  turned  quickly,  gazing  intently  at 
the  speaker. 

"  Anne  !     Do  you  not  know  me  ?  " 

She  took  a  step  toward  him,  bewilderment 
written  upon  every  feature. 

"  Who  are  you,  sir  ? "  she  demanded,  her 
eyes  fixed  upon  his  face. 

The  Governor  stepped  between  them. 

"  Who  are  you  -  '  he  began,  but  Robert 
interrupted  him  by  dropping  upon  one  knee 
[175} 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

before  him.  He  would  transport  them  for  the 
moment  to  Quebec,  —  back  to  the  old  chateau. 

"  I  have  come,  Excellency,  to  make  report 
of  my  explorations  in  the  Valley  of  the  Ohio." 

"  Robert !  Robert !  Is  it  possible  that  it 
is  you  ?  They  told  me  you  were  dead.  So 
cruel  —  so  cruel ! " 

Anne's  face  plainly  showed  how  keenly  she 
had  suffered.  She  came  close  to  her  lover 
and  gazed  searchingly  at  him.  His  arms  were 
about  her,  and  her  head  rested  for  a  moment 
against  his  shoulder. 

"  It  is  you !  it  is  you ! "  she  almost  sobbed 
in  her  joy.  "  Oh,  Robert,  tell  me  it  is  you  ! " 

"  Can  you  doubt  it,  my  beloved  ?  It  has 
been  a  dreary  waiting,  but  this  moment  is 
reward  enough. 

"  Sir,"  Robert  continued,  turning  to  the  old 
man,  "  will  you  not  pardon  my  presumption  ? 
I  stole  away  your  dear  maid's  heart  before  I 
left  Quebec,  and  told  you  not  of  it." 

"  Speak  not  of  that,  Master  Cavelier.  My 
little  girl  has  mourned  you  long,  and  glad  am 
I  that  her  heart's  devotion  need  not  go  unre- 
quited. But  how  came  you  here,  sir  ? " 

The  three  resumed  the  promenade,  as  others 
of  the  guests  were  seen  approaching.  Anne 
walked  between  the  two  men,  holding  close  to 
the  arm  of  each.  Her  face  was  radiant  with 

[176] 


FINDS    A    RARE    GEM 

happiness,  yet  she  seemed  to  fear  lest  the 
present  reality  should  fade  away  and  leave  the 
old  sad  dream  in  its  place.  This  was  her 
present ;  the  past  was  full  of  sorrow  both  for 
her  father  and  for  Robert ;  the  future  contained 
for  her  she  knew  not  what,  —  but  this,  her 
present,  was  assured,  and  she  held  fast  to  the 
two  great  loves  of  her  life  as  if  she  feared  to  let 
them  go. 

Robert  related  to  them  the  main  facts  con- 
cerning the  events  which  had  occurred  since 
they  separated  four  years  before  in  Quebec. 
He  told  them  of  his  adventurous  expedition 
and  its  result,  of  his  return  to  Quebec  and  the 
disappointment  which  awaited  him  there,  of 
Frontenac  and  his  friendship  for  him,  of  his 
mission  to  the  King,  and  of  his  efforts  to  find 
Anne.  His  hearers  were  full  of  interest,  and 
often  interrupted  him  with  eager  questions. 

They  were  able,  in  their  turn,  to  fill  in  the 
facts  which  Frontenac  himself  could  not  supply. 
Robert  learned  of  the  ever-increasing  insolence 
of  Talon,  and  how  he  had  over-reached  him- 
self in  his  final  coup,  which  had  accomplished 
his  object  in  that  it  brought  about  the  recall 
of  Courcelle ;  but  instead  of  being  himself  ad- 
vanced from  Intendant  to  Governor,  as  he  con- 
fidently expected,  he  was  recalled  to  France  and 
retired  from  public  service.  Anne  told  him  of 
12  [  177  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

Dollier's  return  to  Quebec  just  before  they 
sailed  for  France,  bringing  with  him  the  re- 
port of  Robert's  death  at  the  hands  of  his 
mutinous  soldiers. 

This  was  apparently  so  well  substantiated 
that  Anne  felt  that  the  last  tie  binding  her  to 
the  New  France,  which  had  contained  for  her  so 
little  of  happiness  and  so  much  of  sorrow,  was 
indeed  broken,  and  she  was  quite  ready  to 
accept  for  herself  the  recall  to  France.  She 
knew  that  her  father's  career  was  at  an  end,  and 
that  they  must  go  whither  the  wind  blew  them. 
Her  life,  she  felt,  was  also  ended  ;  for  the  bright 
horizon  which  she  and  Robert  had  watched 
together  from  the  Rock  of  Quebec  had  faded 
in  the  darkness  of  night  now  that  their  golden 
dream  could  not  be  realised. 

Her  father's  friends  were  still  powerful  enough 
to  gain  for  him  the  nominal  position  which  pro- 
vided for  his  actual  necessities,  and  for  Anne 
herself  they  were  even  more  fortunate  in  secur- 
ing her  appointment  as  maid  of  honour  to 
Madame  la  Duchesse  d 'Orleans,  the  Prin- 
cess Palatine.  Here  both  she  and  the  old 
Governor  were  as  happily  situated  as  they  could 
expect,  and  both  settled  down  to  accept  the 
future,  hopeless  as  it  might  seem,  with  that 
resignation  and  outward  content  which  mark 
deep  sensibilities. 

[178] 


FINDS    A    RARE    GEM 

The  hours  had  run  on  without  notice  as  Cour- 
celle,  Anne,  and  Robert  exchanged  these  items 
of  news  which  so  vitally  concerned  them  all. 
They  had  remained  in  the  less-frequented  por- 
tions of  the  park  that  they  might  not  be  dis- 
turbed by  the  gay  revelers  ;  and  so  absorbed 
were  they  that  they  did  not  notice  that  the  King 
and  his  companions  had  long  since  deserted  the 
gorgeously-decorated  gondolas  upon  the  grand 
canal ;  they  did  not  observe  that  the  lights  upon 
the  parterres  and  about  the  water-ways  had  been 
extinguished;  nor  did  they  realise  that  they 
alone  of  all  the  guests  had  remained,  until  they 
saw  the  first  bright  rays  of  dawn  appearing  in 
the  sky,  as  if  to  warn  them  that  they  must  sepa- 
rate, and  to  manifest  its  own  supremacy  over 
mortal  imitations,  —  even  though  these  should 
be  the  most  sumptuous  which  royalty  could 
command. 


[179] 


POWER 


THROVE 


HE     KING'S    FETE    AT 

Versailles  left  memories  of 
varied  emotions  in  the  hearts 
of  those  who  had  participated 
in  it.  To  Anne  and  to 
Robert  it  represented  the 
climax  in  their  happiness ; 
but  to  one  of  those  nearer  to  the  King,  the 
extinguishing  of  the  myriads  of  lights  and  the 
overwhelming  darkness  which  succeeded  it 
seemed  to  represent  her  own  career. 

Madame  de  Montespan  had  held  King  Louis 
in  the  hollow  of  her  hand  for  thirteen  years. 
He  had  broken  with  her  time  and  again,  but 
she  had  always  succeeded  in  winning  back  his 
wandering  favour.  She  alone  against  all  the 
Court  had  persuaded  him  to  legitimate  the  chil- 
dren which  had  been  born  to  them,  and  this 
fact,  together  with  her  incontestable  beauty  and 
extraordinary  diplomacy,  had  until  now  been 
enough  to  enable  her  to  withstand  all  counter- 
attacks. 

[180] 


POWER  BEHIND  THE  THRONE 

But  Louis  XIV.  had  recently  known  a  change 
in  heart.  Ever  since  Mademoiselle  de  Fon- 
tanges,  the  passing  flame  which  for  the  moment 
called  the  royal  lover  from  the  side  of  Montes- 
pan,  died  in  child-bed,  the  monarch  had  felt  a 
touch  of  remorse  which  he  attributed  to  religion. 
Father  La  Chaise  seized  upon  this  unexpected 
turn  with  characteristic  energy,  the  result  being 
that  while  Madame  de  Montespan  still  main- 
tained her  high  position  at  Court,  she  felt  her 
power  to  be  gradually  waning,  and  knew  that  it 
was  but  a  question  of  weeks,  or  perhaps  only  of 
days,  when  a  new  favourite  would  take  her  place. 

Madame  de  Montespan  had  been  a  favourite 
"  thundering  and  triumphant,"  but  still  she  was 
a  woman  ;  and  being  a  woman  she  was  tasting 
the  bitterest  dregs  of  the  humiliation  of  her 
pride  in  discovering  that  her  rival  in  the  King's 
affections  was  none  other  than  the  despised 
governess  of  her  children,  the  widow  Scarron. 
The  King  came  to  know  her  while  visiting  the 
Due  du  Maine  and  Mademoiselle  de  Nantes, 
and  he  found  in  the  modest,  sweet-faced  woman, 
whose  inherited  nobility  ever  shone  through  the 
homely  condition  she  occupied,  a  response  to 
the  yearning  for  better  things  for  which  his 
heart  now  cried. 

Fran9oise  d'Aubigne,  the  future  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  was  a  few  years  older  than  the  other 
[181] 


ROBERT    CAVEL1ER 

Francoise,  ]\Iadame  de  Montespan.  Her  father 
had  been  a  nobleman,  a  gambler,  a  bankrupt,  an 
adventurer,  and  the  kindest  act  which  he  ever 
performed  for  his  devoted  wife  and  children 
was  when  he  died,  in  1 647.  Fran9oise's  mother, 
unable  to  provide  for  both  her  children,  placed 
her  daughter  in  an  Ursuline  convent  at  Niort, 
where  the  seeds  of  religion  were  carefully  sown, 
and  an  implacable  abhorrence  of  Protestant- 
ism created.  This  religious  fervour  became  so 
much  a  part  of  her  life  that  even  the  flippancy 
of  Scarron,  whom  she  married  at  seventeen, 
could  not  shake  it ;  and  when  her  misfortunes 
placed  her  in  charge  of  the  children  of  the 
King  and  Madame  de  Montespan,  she  wel- 
comed it  as  an  opportunity  given  to  her  to 
plant  the  doctrines  of  the  true  and  only  faith 
in  those  who  were  of  the  King's  blood. 

Louis  could  not  help  seeing  this  in  his  daily 
contact  with  his  legitimated  children,  to  whom 
he  gave  a  devotion  far  in  excess  of  his  affection 
for  the  Dauphin.  The  modest  governess  did 
not  force  her  goodness  or  her  religion  upon  him, 
as  did  Fere  La  Chaise,  and  perhaps  for  that 
very  reason  succeeded  in  impressing  him  with  it 
when  the  ecclesiastic  had  failed.  Day  after  day 
he  visited  her  apartments,  ostensibly  to  see  his 
children,  but  in  reality  that  he  might  converse 
with  their  guardian  ;  and  little  by  little  he  came 


POWER  BEHIND  THE  THRONE 

to  depend  upon  her  clear-sighted,  unhesitating 
judgment  in  important  matters  of  state.  She 
personified  to  him  both  Wisdom  and  Virtue, 
and  the  combination  was  sufficiently  novel  to 
be  interesting. 

A  few  months  previous  to  the  fete  at  Ver- 
sailles, Madame  Scarron  purchased  from  her 
modest  earnings,  considerably  augmented  by 
the  King's  generosity,  the  estate  of  Maintenon, 
whereupon  Louis  created  her  the  Marchioness  de 
Maintenon,  and  thus  gave  the  first  official  notice 
to  his  Court  that  she  enjoyed  the  royal  favour. 
By  her  own  request  she  still  retained  her  posi- 
tion as  governess  of  his  children,  but  the  King 
now  considered  no  function  to  be  complete 
unless  she  was  by  his  side. 

Queen  Marie  Therese,  long  accustomed  to 
Louis'  infidelities,  welcomed  the  new  favourite 
with  great  rejoicing,  for  she  saw  in  her  the  di- 
rect cause  of  the  King's  pious  sentiments,  with 
which  came  greater  kindness  and  considera- 
tion from  her  husband  to  herself.  Thus  it  was 
that  when  the  royal  party  embarked  upon  the 
gorgeously-decorated  gondolas  that  festival- 
night  at  Versailles,  Madame  de  Maintenon  was 
with  the  King  and  the  Queen,  while  Madame 
de  Montespan  was  in  the  second  gondola. 

In  her  heart  the  Montespan  knew  this  to  be 
a  just  retribution.  She  herself  had  supplanted 

[183] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

the  once-powerful  La  Valliere,  whose  sad  face, 
in  still  another  gondola,  was  a  living  reproach 
to  her  ;  she  had  deserted  her  husband  ;  she  had 
used  the  King's  favour  to  advance  her  own  sel- 
fish ends ;  —  yet  with  all  this  clearly  outlined 
upon  her  conscience  she  could  not  accept  even 
the  inevitable  without  a  jealousy  and  resent- 
ment which  consumed  her  very  heart. 

At  five  o'clock  on  the  day  after  the  fete 
Louis  made  his  usual  daily  visit  to  Madame  de 
Maintenon's  apartments.  Perhaps  the  simplic- 
ity of  the  room  as  contrasted  with  the  rest  of 
the  palace  made  it  an  agreeable  retreat  for  him 
from  the  ostentatious  grandeur  which  sur- 
rounded him  elsewhere.  The  pictures  upon 
the  walls  were  by  famous  masters,  but  they 
were  all  of  religious  subjects ;  the  Savonniere 
carpet  was  rich  in  texture  but  subdued  in  colour- 
ing ;  the  chimney-piece  was  of  magnificent  mar- 
ble, but  held  no  ornament  save  a  clock  which 
ticked  away  the  moments  of  Montespan's  life 
at  Court.  Opposite  the  fireplace  were  two 
armchairs,  —  one  for  the  fair  tenant's  use,  the 
other  reserved  for  the  King ;  on  the  other  side 
of  the  chimney-piece  was  a  red-damask  cano- 
pied niche  in  which  stood  a  statue  of  the  Virgin 
with  a  light  burning  before  it,  and  a  wooden 
prie-dieu  on  the  top  of  which  rested  a  prayer- 

[184] 


POWER    BEHIND    THE    THRONE 

book.     On  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  was 
the  bed,  in  an  alcove. 

Louis  found  Madame  de  Maintenon  seated 
in  the  armchair  before  the  fire,  busily  employed 
with  her  work-basket  in  her  lap.  She  rose  as 
he  entered,  and  bowed  low  in  giving  him  a 
smiling  welcome. 

"Ever  the  same  smile,  Francoise,"  said  the 
King,  sinking  into  the  chair  before  him.  "  When- 
ever I  come  here  and  see  that  smile  upon  your 
face,  I  feel  as  if  I  had  become  a  saint  myself  and 
were  reaping  my  reward." 

"  Your  reward,  Sire,  for  the  good  works  you 
have  accomplished  and  will  accomplish  will  be 
far  greater  than  any  in  my  power  to  bestow." 

The  King  smiled  contentedly. 

"  Do  you  really  believe  that,  Fra^oise  ? 
Father  La  Chaise  has  preached  into  my  ears 
from  time  immemorial  that  my  sins  were  near 
past  redemption,  and  yet  by  your  religion  you 
give  me  hope  that  perchance  it  is  not  yet  too 
late." 

"  My  religion  and  that  of  Pere  La  Chaise  are 
the  same,  Sire.  By  that  saving  word  '  near ' 
the  father  has  held  out  the  same  hope  that  I 
would  give  you.  It  is  by  a  man's  whole  work 
that  he  is  judged,  not  by  a  portion  of  it." 

"  And  does  my  salvation  forbid  me  to  con- 
tinue war?"  asked  the  King. 
[185] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

Madame  de  Maintenon  paused  before  reply- 
ing. 

"  I  long  after  peace,  Sire,"  she  said  at  last. 
"  I  shall  never  give  the  King  any  counsels  pre- 
judicial to  his  glory  ;  but  if  he  would  believe 
me,  he  would  be  less  dazzled  with  this  eclat  of 
victory,  and  would  think  more  seriously  of  his 
salvation.  But  it  is  not  my  business  to  gov- 
ern the  State.  I  ask  God  daily  to  inspire 
and  direct  the  master,  and  make  him  know 
the  truth." 

"  But  surely  this  salvation  cannot  forbid  my 
loving  you,  Francoise,  who  are  the  embodiment 
of  religion  itself." 

Fran9oise  looked  at  the  King  steadily. 

"  Sire,  you  shame  me  when  you  speak  thus. 
Far  from  being  the  embodiment,  1  am  amongst 
the  most  erring  of  the  faith  ;  and  your  love,  Sire, 
belongs  to  the  Queen  and  to  the  State." 

The  King  regarded  her  in  silence.  This  was 
a  phase  of  femininity  which  he  had  not  before 
met.  La  Valliere,  Montespan,  Fontanges,  had 
not  so  spurned  his  royal  affection. 

"Ever  true  to  your  faith,  Francoise,"  he 
said  finally.  "  They  call  the  popes  '  Your 
Holiness,'  and  kings  'Your  Majesty;'  you, 
Madame,  should  be  called,  '  Your  Solidity ' ! " 

"  Let  us  speak  of  other  things,  Sire  ;  I  have  a 
favour  to  ask  of  you  to-day." 
[186] 


by  Juki,  Andrew  <t  Son 


Louis  XIV.  AND  MME.  DE  MAINTENON 

"  They  call  the  popes  (  Your  Holiness,'  and  kings  '  Your  Majesty.' 
You,  Madame,  should  be  called  '  Your  Solidity.'  " 


POWER  BEHIND  THE  THRONE 

"  Name  it,  Frar^oise ;  I  grant  it  before  the 
asking." 

"  I  understand  that  one  Robert  Cavelier  has 
recently  arrived  at  Court  from  New  France." 

"  Well,  what  of  that  ? " 

"  I  wish  to  see  him,  Sire,  to  learn  from  him 
how  fares  our  faith  among  the  Indians.  May  I 
see  him  here  ? " 

"  Willingly ;  but  if  he  speaks  the  truth  you 
may  learn  more  than  you  desire.  Frontenac 
does  not  bless  these  prelates  with  unstinted 
praise,  and  if  I  mistake  not,  young  Cavelier  is 
well  tainted  with  the  same  disease." 

"  You  may  be  right,  Sire,  yet  I  would  learn 
it  from  his  own  lips." 

The  King  soon  after  took  his  leave,  and 
Madame  de  Maintenon  quickly  summoned  the 
captain  of  the  Guard. 

"  By  the  King's  orders  you  will  request  the 
Sieur  de  La  Salle  to  come  to  me  at  once." 

As  soon  as  the  captain  retired  Madame  threw 
herself  upon  her  knees  before  the  prie-dieu,  and 
prayed  for  strength  and  guidance  in  the  coming 
interview. 

Robert  and  Anne  had  made  the  most  of  the 
afternoon  of  this  same  day.  Relieved  from  her 
regular  duties  by  the  Princess  Palatine's  indis- 
position following  the  fete,  Anne  had  been  able 

[187] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

to  spend  several  hours  with  Robert  in  the  park 
so  brilliantly  illuminated  the  night  before.  To 
the  two  lovers  the  spot  seemed  even  more 
enchanted,  as  they  walked  to  and  fro  enjoying 
to  the  fullest  this  unexpected  reunion. 

"  How  strange  it  seems,"  said  Anne  at  length, 
"  that  we  should  be  together  here  at  Versailles. 
For  years  and  years,  before  I  met  you  at  Que- 
bec, I  longed  to  return  to  France ;  but  after- 
wards, when  father  was  recalled,  even  though 
I  believed  you  dead,  it  almost  broke  my  heart 
to  leave  those  scenes  which  I  had  known  with 
you." 

"  I  cannot  understand  what  object  Dollier  had 
in  reporting  me  dead,"  replied  Robert.  "  I 
often  think  of  it." 

"  Simply  to  conceal  the  fact  that  he  had  sepa- 
rated his  party  from  yours,  for  he  knew  that 
father  would  be  very  angry.  As  it  was,  he  took 
the  position  that  the  disaster  which  befell  you 
and  your  companions  was  due  to  your  own 
obstinacy  and  lack  of  experience,  and  that  had 
he  not  changed  the  route  never  one  of  the  en- 
tire company  would  have  returned  alive." 

"  A  pretty  artifice ! "  said  Robert,  his  mind 
reverting  to  that  scene  upon  the  shore  of  Lake 
Ontario.  "  He  evidently  took  his  chances  that 
the  facts  would  sustain  his  words  ;  and,  in  faith, 
there  were  times  when  he  came  near  the  truth  1 " 
[188] 


POWER    BEHIND    THE    THRONE 

Anne  tightened  her  hold  upon  her  lover's 
arm. 

"  Do  not  speak  so  lightly  of  these  things, 
Robert,  I  pray  you.  It  recalls  all  too  vividly 
those  awful  days  after  I  first  received  the  news. 
Had  it  not  been  for  dear  father,  I  could  not 
have  stood  the  blow.  I  had  to  live  for  him, 
and  I  nerved  myself  for  the  saddened  task. 
'T  was  hard  enough  before  we  returned  to 
France,  but  here  it  has  been  harder  still." 

"  Dear,  loyal  heart,"  interrupted  Robert,  "  I 
find  myself  controlled  by  feelings  which  con- 
tradict ;  I  grieve  to  hear  how  you  suffered  for 
me,  yet  it  rejoices  me  to  know  that  your  love 
ever  held  so  true." 

Anne  did  not  heed  the  interruption.  She 
must  free  her  heart  now  from  the  pain  which 
so  long  had  consumed  it. 

"  The  life  here  is  all  so  false  that  when  first 
I  had  to  enter  into  it,  my  whole  being  rebelled 
against  the  seeming  mockery.  No  one  could 
understand  that  I  was  not  as  eager  as  are  all 
the  other  maids  to  have  these  pompous  lackeys 
kneeling  at  my  feet,  pouring  out  love  sonnets 
and  telling  me  how  beautiful  I  am  !  Oh,  how 
I  loathed  it !  And  all  the  time  my  heart  was 
bleeding  for  a  true  man's  memory  ! " 

"  I  trust  the  man  proves  truer  than  the 
memory,  Anne,"  replied  Robert,  amused  in  spite 
[189] 


of  the  seriousness  of  the  conversation  ;  "  for  if 
I  mistake  not,  one  Robert  Cavelier  did  rudely 
shatter  that  illusion  by  appearing  in  the  flesh  ! " 

Anne  was  visibly  pained  that  he  should  jest 
over  what  had  been  a  tragedy  to  her.  Robert 
hastened  to  atone. 

"  Do  not  think  I  do  not  realise  your  suffer- 
ing, my  beloved,  or  that  I  do  not  appreciate 
all  that  you  have  endured  for  me.  If  possible, 
my  love  for  you  has  grown  because  of  this 
great  proof  which  you  have  given  me  of  it. 
But  how  can  I  grieve  with  you  beside  me  ? 
How  can  I  dwell  upon  the  sadness  of  the 
past  when  the  present  contains  so  much  of 
happiness  ? " 

"  You  are  right,  Robert,"  said  Anne,  smiling 
through  the  tears  which  came  involuntarily  as 
she  recalled  the  sorrow  she  had  passed  through, 
and  looking  into  her  lover's  face ;  "  you  are 
right :  let  us  enjoy  to-day  without  dimming  its 
brightness  with  the  pain  of  yesterday." 

The  conversation  then  turned  from  the  past 
upon  the  future.  The  mind  is  never  content 
to  rest  more  than  a  moment  upon  the  present, 
however  attractive  it  may  be.  Deny  it  the 
pleasure  of  dwelling  upon  the  past,  and  it  will 
straightway  turn  upon  the  future.  The  past 
is  mellowed  by  memory  and  age,  the  future  is 
of  interest  because  of  its  uncertainty ;  but  the 

[190] 


POWER    BEHIND    THE    THRONE 

present  represents  realisation,  and   is  thus  of 
lesser  consequence. 

"  And  you  will  return  with  me  to  that  New 
France  which  was  so  unkind  to  you  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,  Robert  —  not  yet,"  she  replied, 
sadness  again  tingeing  her  voice.  "  I  could  not 
leave  father  now  ;  he  is  aging  fast,  and  depends 
so  much  upon  me." 

"  But  need  we  leave  him  behind  ?  Will  he 
not  go  with  us,  and  take  up  his  home  in  our 
home  across  the  seas  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  so,"  Anne  answered  quietly,  "  but 
it  would  be  hard  for  him  to  return  to  Quebec  ; 
it  is  so  full  of  bitter  memories.  But  I  will 
ask  him,  and  if  he  will,  then  I  can  go.  Oh, 
Robert,  can  it  be  possible  that  we  shall  be 
together  there  again  !  " 

"  It  is  possible,"  answered  Robert,  taking 
her  hand  in  his,  "  it  is  possible.  We  shall  be 
married  so  soon  as  your  father  gains  the  King's 
consent,  which  will  be  but  a  formality,  and  we 
three  will  turn  our  faces  toward  the  new  land 
where  we  first  learned  our  happiness." 

"  God  grant  it  may  be  so,  my  Robert,  but  I 
feel  so  fearful  that  something  may  yet  arise  to 
make  it  all  impossible." 

"  T  is  but  the  shadow  of  your  long  sorrow- 
ing," said  Robert,  reassuringly ;  "  there  can  be 
nothing  to  prevent." 

[191] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

Their  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the 
approach  of  one  of  the  guards,  who  saluted 
and  spoke  to  Robert. 

"  Have  I  the  honour  of  addressing  the  Sieur 
de  La  Salle  ? " 

"  I  am  he,"  answered  Robert,  surprised. 

"  By  the  King's  orders  you  are  to  attend 
Madame  de  Maintenon  at  once." 

The  guard  again  saluted  and  left  them  to 
themselves.  Robert  looked  at  Anne  inquiringly. 
The  girl's  face  was  pale  with  apprehension. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ? "  asked  Robert, 
alarmed  in  spite  of  himself. 

"  It  means  that  the  Jesuits  know  of  your 
arrival,  and  that  Madame  de  Maintenon  has 
received  an  appeal  to  interest  herself  against 
you,"  answered  Anne,  with  quick  intuition. 

"But  what  can  they  hope  to  accomplish 
now  ? "  again  questioned  Robert.  "  My  busi- 
ness with  the  King  is  ended,  and  it  is  not 
possible  that  he  will  undo  what  has  already 
been  consummated." 

"  Anything  is  possible  at  Versailles,"  answered 
Anne ;  "  but  you  must  hasten.  The  King's 
orders  do  not  brook  delay." 

Robert  proceeded  at  once  to  Madame  de 
Maintenon's  apartments.  Giving  his  name  to 
the  guard  at  the  door,  he  was  admitted,  and 
after  gravely  saluting  her,  he  regarded  the  new 

[192] 


favourite  with  no  little  curiosity.  Madame 
motioned  him  to  be  seated. 

"  You  are  Robert  Cavelier,  the  Sieur  de  La 
Salle  ? " 

"  Yes,  Madame." 

"  I  have  asked  the  King  to  permit  me  to  see 
you,  that  I  may  learn  from  you  regarding  our 
missions  in  the  New  World,  for  the  welfare  of 
which  we  are  so  much  concerned." 

"  I  would  gladly  tell  you  of  them,  Madame, 
but  my  labours  have  been  in  the  service  of  the 
King  rather  than  of  the  Church." 

"  The  service  of  the  Church,  sir,  is  the  service 
of  the  King,"  replied  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
gravely. 

Robert  rehearsed  as  fully  as  possible  the  more 
recent  news  from  the  missions  and  of  the  priests, 
careful  to  avoid  any  criticism  that  might  prove 
objectionable.  When  he  concluded,  Madame 
questioned  him  still  further. 

"  And  is  the  Comte  de  Frontenac  of  the 
faith  ? "  she  asked,  endeavouring  to  draw  him  out. 

"  The  Comte  de  Frontenac  respects  the  work 
of  the  missions,  and  aids  it  with  all  his  power," 
answered  Robert,  evasively. 

"  Is  he  upon  good  terms  with  the  fathers  ? " 

"  In  all  that  relates  to  the  missions  he  is  on 
excellent  terms  with  them,  Madame." 

"  You  seem  to  qualify  your  statements  not  a 
is  [  193  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

little,  Sieur  de  La  Salle.  I  would  ask  you  for 
further  information." 

"  The  Comte  de  Frontenac  is  in  sympathy 
with  the  fathers  in  their  spiritual  work,  Madame, 
but  opposes  their  interference  in  the  temporal 
conduct  of  the  colony." 

"  Surely  insofar  as  the  conduct  of  temporal 
affairs  bears  upon  those  of  the  world  to  come, 
the  Church  should  take  precedence  over  the 
State,"  replied  Madame  de  Maintenon,  sternly. 
"  And  do  you  support  the  Governor,  sir  ?  " 

"  As  a  servant  of  the  Governor,  in  the  em- 
ploy of  the  State  and  not  of  the  Church,  I  con- 
sider it  my  duty  to  support  the  Governor." 

"But  do  your  sympathies  stop  there,  sir ? 
Have  you  no  further  feelings  against  the  faith 
than  that  of  duty  to  the  State  ? " 

Robert  was  fairly  cornered.  He  could  avoid 
the  issue  no  longer  without  a  subterfuge,  and 
to  that  he  would  not  stoop. 

"  You  will  pardon  me,  Madame,  if  I  say 
that  I  am  quite  unable  to  understand  what 
bearing  my  personal  feelings  may  have  upon 
this  matter ;  but  since  you  ask  it,  I  must  admit 
that  the  treatment  I  have  received  at  the  hands 
of  the  Jesuits  has  not  been  such  as  to  win  my 
friendship." 

"  The  bearing  of  your  personal  feelings  is 
that  you  are  about  to  return  to  New  France, 

[194] 


POWER    BEHIND    THE    THRONE 

and  I  would  have  you  go  back  as  one  of  them 
and  not  against  them.  If  you  have  aught  of 
which  to  complain  in  their  treatment  of  you,  it 
is  due  to  your  own  shortcomings  ;  for  our  faith 
is  the  true  faith  and  the  faith  of  God." 

"  What  you  ask  is  not  possible,  Madame ;  I 
have  suffered  too  much  and  too  long,  and  I  am 
too  familiar  with  the  tenets  of  their  faith  to  be 
able  to  embrace  it." 

"  But  it  is  necessary  that  you  do  so,  Sieur  de 
La  Salle,  for  the  King  will  have  it  so.  His 
Majesty  regards  the  souls  of  his  subjects  with 
even  more  concern  than  his  own  temporal 
power ;  and  what  I  ask  for  myself  I  command 
in  his  name  1 " 

"  I  cannot  accept  that  command,  Madame, 
and  were  the  King  here  I  must  needs  tell  him 
the  same." 

"  Then  you  defy  the  King,  sir  ? " 

"  Not  so,  Madame.  The  King  has  no  more 
loyal  subject,  but  no  man  can  know  what  I 
know  and  accept  the  faith  of  the  Jesuits." 

Madame  de  Maintenon  was  not  angry ;  she 
was  inconceivably  shocked.  With  tears  in  her 
eyes  she  pointed  toward  the  prie-dieu. 

"  Sir,"     she     said,    making     a    last    appeal, 

"  kneel  with  me  before  the  blessed  Virgin  and 

admit  your  errors,  so  that  you  may  return  to 

New   France   as    a   strength   to  our    brethren. 

[195] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

Kneel  with  me  there  and  acknowledge  the 
true  faith,  and  the  only  faith,  upon  which  de- 
pends the  future  salvation  of  the  world." 

"  I  will  kneel  with  you,  Madame,  and  pray  to 
God  that  His  works  may  be  increased,  but  I  can- 
not and  I  will  not  admit  that  He  has  intrusted 
their  accomplishment  to  the  Jesuits  alone." 

Madame  threw  herself  upon  her  knees  before 
the  prie-dieu. 

"Blessed  Virgin,"  she  prayed,  "show  him 
the  error  of  his  ways,  and  convert  him  to  the 
faith  ! " 

Robert  noiselessly  retreated,  leaving  the 
King's  favourite  invoking  Divine  assistance  in 
his  behalf,  but  in  his  ears  were  sounding  those 
words  of  long  ago  : 

"  Know  well  that  wherever  you  may  go,  be 
it  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  this 
Order  will  search  you  out  to  your  destruction. 
.  .  .  No  man  can  challenge  the  mighty  Society 
of  Jesus  and  live  ! " 


[1961 


v  •;•:-••  CHAPTER  xiir 
THE :  ORE  AT  -KING 

ACCEPTS 
ITHJE*  JUDGMENT  J 
OF  THE -CHURCH 


FTER     QUITTING 

Madame  de  Main  tenon's 
apartments  Robert  lost  no 
time  in  seeking  Courcelle,  and 
giving  him  an  outline  of  his 
conversation  with  Anne,  and 
also  of  what  had  occurred 
since.  The  old  man  listened  in  silence  until 
the  end  of  Robert's  narrative,  and  then  shook 
his  head  gravely. 

"  This  is  a  serious  affair,  my  son,  and  we  shall 
require  all  our  strength  and  wisdom  to  meet  it. 
As  to  going  to  Quebec  with  you  and  my  little 
maid,  it  would  indeed  be  hard,  as  Anne  has 
said  ;  but  I  would  do  it  and  gladly  for  the  sake 
of  her  happiness.  But  this  other  matter  is  more 
difficult.  To-morrow  morning  I  will  present 
my  petition  to  the  King  asking  his  consent  to 
your  marriage  ;  and  if  by  good  fortune  it  is 
granted  before  Madame  de  Maintenon  gains  his 
ear,  you  must  be  married  at  once,  so  that  we 
may  all  sail  from  here  upon  the  next  ship.  At 
[197] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

present  I  have  an  appointment  to  keep,  my  son, 
so  I  must  leave  you." 

The  old  man  threw  his  heavy  military  cape 
over  his  broad  shoulders  and  disappeared  in  the 
direction  of  the  palace. 

The  next  morning  Robert  walked  out  into 
the  Cour  Royale,  where  several  of  the  guards- 
men were  lounging  about,  awaiting  their  orders 
for  the  day.  Cavelier  had  become  an  object  of 
interest  to  them,  as  the  New  France  was  looked 
upon  almost  as  a  myth,  and  their  curiosity  con- 
cerning it  was  unlimited.  As  he  was  seen 
approaching,  several  rose  to  greet  him,  and 
soon  he  was  the  centre  of  an  animated  group. 

"  Tell  us  of  the  Comte  de  Frontenac,"  said 
one.  "  Does  he  submit  meekly  to  the  growing 
strength  of  the  Church  in  New  France  ?  In 
the  old  days,  when  I  served  under  him  at  Miil- 
hausen,  he  would  have  spit  fire  in  the  face  of 
the  Devil  himself,  had  he  tried  to  thwart  his 
plans." 

Robert  smiled  at  the  truth  of  the  picture 
which  the  old  soldier  drew. 

"  His  spirit  has  not  changed,  my  friend,  but 
he  finds  conditions  very  different  in  the  New 
World.  Frontenac  has  ambitions  to  hold  that 
vast  empire  from  the  English,  but  he  cannot  do 
it  single-handed." 

"  He  may  as  well  give  up  counting  on  any 
[198] 


JUDGMENT    OF    THE    CHURCH 

help  from  here,"  said  the  guardsman ;  "  for 
things  will  be  a  great  sight  worse  before  they 
will  be  better.  The  King  is  turning  priest  now 
that  he  may  confess  himself  to  Scarron's  widow. 
Soldiers  and  wars  will  soon  be  replaced  by 
cassocks  and  masses,  and  the  priests  will  own 
us  all." 

"  Have  a  care,  heretic,"  interrupted  another 
of  the  Guards,  with  mock  severity,  "  else  you 
will  be  the  pendulum  dangling  on  some  im- 
provised clock  by  the  roadside  !  " 

"  Not  while  the  Edict  of  Nantes  holds  good," 
retorted  the  first  speaker ;  "  but  even  that 
may  be  revoked  before  we  see  the  end  of  the 
matter." 

A  page  stepped  from  the  door  of  the  palace 
leading  into  the  Cour  de  Marbre,  and  approached 
the  lieutenant  of  the  Guards. 

"  By  the  King's  orders  you  will  summon  the 
Sieur  de  La  Salle  to  the  council-chamber  at 
once." 

"  I  can  save  you  that  trouble,  lieutenant," 
said  Robert,  rising,  "  since  I  have  myself  heard 
the  orders." 

The  page  led  the  way  to  the  great  council- 
room,  closely  followed  by  Robert,  prepared  for 
anything,  determined  to  be  surprised  at  nothing. 

The  King  was  sitting  in  his  armchair  before 
the  fire,  with  Father  La  Chaise  standing  beside 

[199] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

him.  The  monarch  was  evidently  in  no  agree- 
able frame  of  mind,  and  he  scarcely  waited  for 
his  visitor  to  salute  him  before  he  began  to 
speak. 

"  What  is  this  I  hear,  Sieur  de  La  Salle, 
regarding  your  rebellious  conduct  toward  our- 
self?" 

"  If  you  refer  to  my  conversation  with  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon,  Sire,  I  can  only  repeat 
to  you  what  I  said  to  her.  There  was  no 
thought  of  rebellion,  Sire,  in  either  attitude 
or  words." 

"  Very  well ;  repeat  it,  sir.  We  will  ourselves 
judge  of  your  intention." 

"  I  said  to  her,  Sire,  that  my  life  was  at  the 
disposal  of  my  sovereign  whenever  and  wherever 
he  might  ask  it,  but  that  my  soul  belonged  to 
God." 

"  It  is  even  more  of  a  defiance  than  she  said," 
interrupted  Pere  La  Chaise,  eagerly. 

"  Silence,  father !  "  shouted  Louis,  angrily. 
"  Since  when  have  I  been  unable  to  deal  with 
my  subjects  without  your  assistance  ?  " 

The  priest  bowed  his  head  meekly,  but  in 
his  eyes  burned  a  fire  which  boded  Robert 
no  good. 

"  Has  any  one  suggested  that  your  soul  be- 
longed to  any  save  to  its  Maker  ? "  asked  the 
King,  again  addressing  Robert. 

[200] 


JUDGMENT    OF    THE    CHURCH 

"  I  have  been  told,  Sire,  that  unless  I  deliver 
over  my  soul  to  the  Jesuits  it  is  lost  forever ; 
and  my  faith  is  not  that  of  the  Jesuits." 

"  A  heretic,  a  Huguenot  -  "  began  the  father, 
crossing  himself;  but  a  stern  glance  from  the 
King  quickly  silenced  the  interruption. 

"  Is  it  for  one  of  my  subjects  to  determine 
what  is  the  true  faith,  when  his  monarch  has 
already  decided  ? " 

"  By  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  Sire,  one  is  per- 
mitted to  accept  what  faith  he  chooses,"  replied 
Robert,  boldly. 

"  Ay,  and  perchance  the  sooner  that  same 
Edict  of  Nantes  be  revoked,  the  sooner  will 
my  subjects  yield  me  obedience  and  loyalty  ! " 

Pere  La  Chaise  trembled  with  suppressed 
joy.  Perhaps  this  episode  might  bring  about 
the  one  great  hope  of  his  life.  At  all  events,  it 
had  already  proved  an  opening  wedge  of  which 
he  would  not  be  slow  to  avail  himself  at  the 
proper  time. 

Robert  turned  pale  in  spite  of  his  determi- 
nation to  be  surprised  at  nothing.  He  knew 
what  the  revocation  of  that  Edict  would  mean 
to  the  people  of  France,  and  he  shuddered  at 
the  suggestion. 

"  Surely,  Sire,  you  can  but  jest.     You  have 
no  more  loyal  subjects  than  among  those  who 
do  not  embrace  the  Jesuit  religion ;  and  even 
[  201  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

your  father  and  your  grandfather  were  of  the 
Huguenots." 

"  Loyalty,  sir,  means  obedience  to  the  King, 

-  not  in  one  thing,  but  in  all  things  ;  and  I  do 

not  require  your  reminder  that  I  have  a  double 

responsibility   in    righting    the   errors    of    my 

ancestors." 

Robert  bowed  his  head  hopelessly.  The  King 
rose  from  his  chair  and  again  began  to  speak : 

"  The  measure  of  your  disloyalty,  sir,  will  be 
determined  by  your  future  actions.  Monsieur 
de  Courcelle  has  asked  our  sanction  to  your 
marriage  with  his  daughter.  We  think  too 
highly  of  him  to  permit  him  to  admit  a  heretic 
into  the  bosom  of  his  family.  Should  you  de- 
cide to  accept  the  true  faith,  either  now  or  after 
your  return,  our  consent  may  yet  be  obtained." 

The  King  intimated  to  Robert  that  the 
interview  was  at  an  end,  and  the  young  man 
withdrew.  He  quickly  retraced  his  steps  to 
Courcelle's  quarters,  where  he  found  the  old 
man  wrapped  in  deepest  gloom. 

"  There  is  no  hope,  my  son,"  said  Courcelle, 
sadly,  —  "there  is  absolutely  no  hope.  The 
Jesuits  hold  the  King  with  a  grip  of  iron.  Be- 
sides their  antipathy  for  you,  they  have  not 
forgotten  my  own  attitude  against  them  at 
Quebec." 

"  I  have  seen  the  King  myself,"  said  Robert, 
[202] 


JUDGMENT    OF    THE    CHURCH 

"  and  he  gives  me  my  choice  between  accepting 
the  Jesuit  faith  and  renouncing  my  marriage." 

"  You  have  no  choice,  my  son.  Leaving  your 
own  sentiments  out  of  the  question,  I  could 
never  receive  a  Jesuit  as  my  son-in-law,  nor 
would  Anne  accept  one  as  her  husband.  You 
must  see  her  as  soon  as  possible  and  plan  as 
best  you  may.  The  matter  is  far  too  deep  for 
my  old  head  to  solve." 

Courcelle's  suffering  was  so  intense  that 
Robert  forgot  his  own  pain. 

"  Have  courage,  my  father,"  said  he,  with 
forced  confidence ;  "  many  times  have  I  been 
confronted  by  obstacles  which  seemed  too  great 
to  be  overcome,  but  thus  far  I  have  succeeded 
in  surmounting  all.  Think  you  that  with  the 
greatest  desire  of  my  life  before  me  I  shall  not 
succeed  in  this  as  in  the  others  ? " 

"  I  trust  you  may  be  right,"  replied  the  old 
man,  but  there  was  no  confidence  in  the  voice 
which  spoke  ;  "  I  have  not  so  happy  a  record 
behind  me.  The  Jesuits  have  thwarted  me  at 
every  step  and  have  ruined  my  life.  I  can  only 
hope  that  their  enmity  may  not  endanger  Anne's 
and  yours  as  well." 

"  Patience    and    courage,    my    father,"   said 
Robert,   placing  his  hand   upon   his    shoulder. 
"  I  will  seek  Anne,  and  we  will  plan  out  our 
deliverance  from  the  Philistines ! " 
[203] 


The  two  men  parted,  —  one  with  no  ray  of 
hope  to  illumine  the  darkness  which  he  felt 
to  be  settling  down  upon  him,  the  other  filled 
with  misgivings  and  with  no  idea  of  what  the 
next  step  would  be,  yet  supported  by  that 
buoyancy  of  youth  which  cannot  know  defeat. 

Anne  had  been  prepared  by  her  father  for 
the  blow  which  had  fallen  upon  them  before 
she  met  Robert,  and  her  eyes  were  red  from 
weeping.  In  spite  of  the  etiquette  of  that  rig- 
orously-ordered society,  she  had  arranged  that 
they  should  be  alone  in  one  of  the  antechambers 
of  the  palace,  and  was  awaiting  Robert  when 
he  entered. 

"  Ah,  Robert,  will  they  never  cease  to  perse- 
cute us  ?  "  she  cried,  putting  her  arms  about  his 
neck,  and  sobbing  bitterly.  "  I  cannot  bear  to 
have  you  see  me  as  weak  as  this,  yet  it  does 
seem  as  if  I  had  passed  through  suffering 
enough  without  having  this  new  sorrow  laid 
upon  me." 

"But  all  is  not  over  yet,"  replied  Robert, 
stroking  the  soft  hair  with  his  hand.  "  A 
thought  has  come  to  me,  and  I  believe  we 
can  plan  a  way  out  of  our  difficulty,  after  all." 

Anne  raised  her  eyes  to  his,  full  of  renewed 
hope. 

"  Tell  me,  Robert,  —  tell  me  quickly." 

"  We  cannot  be  married  before  I  leave,  as  I 
[  204] 


JUDGMENT    OF    THE    CHURCH 

had  hoped,"  said  Robert ;  "  and  I  must  return  to 
Quebec  upon  the  ship  which  sails  two  weeks 
from  now- 

"  Oh,  Robert,  must  you  leave  me  ? "  Anne  in- 
terrupted. "  If  you  go  from  me  another  time,  I 
shall  never  see  you  again ! " 

"  Listen,  dear  heart.  Another  ship  will  sail 
in  about  two  months,  and  on  that  ship  you  and 
your  father  must  come  to  me.  When  once  I 
have  gone  from  here,  no  one  will  think  to  watch 
you  closely,  and  you  and  your  father  can  quietly 
slip  away  without  difficulty.  When  you  have 
reached  Quebec  we  can  be  married,  and  the 
New  France  is  far  too  distant  from  Versailles 
for  even  Louis'  hands  to  reach  across  the  sea. 
What  think  you  of  my  plan  ? " 

"  I  know  not  what  to  think,  my  Robert,  but 
I  fear  what  may  happen  during  the  two  months 
intervening.  With  you  beside  me,  I  feel 
strength  enough  to  meet  any  catastrophe,  but 
when  the  ship  takes  you  away  from  France, 
even  as  the  light  canoe  took  you  from  Quebec 
so  long  ago,  my  heart  will  again  be  filled  with 
strange  forebodings.  Oh,  Robert,  take  us  with 
you  now ! " 

"  Alas,  I  may  not  do  so  !     I  shall  be  watched 

until  the  blue  water  shows  between  the  ship's 

stern  and  the  shore ;  but  once  I  am  away  the 

vigilance  will  be  relaxed.     Then  you  and  our 

[205  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

dear  father  may  safely  take  passage  under  other 
names,  and  we  shall  be  again  united  amidst 
the  old  familiar  scenes." 

"  I  see  no  other  way  than  you  have  planned, 
Robert,  but  I  would  that  we  might  go  together. 
Come,  let  us  find  my  father  and  ask  him  what 
he  thinks." 

The  old  soldier  had  not  recovered  from  the 
despair  in  which  Rooert  had  left  him.  He  lis- 
tened attentively  to  what  Robert  suggested, 
and  as  he  had  no  alternative  to  offer,  advised 
that  the  plan  be  adopted. 

"  I  trust  that  all  may  be  carried  out  as  you 
have  arranged  it,  my  son  ;  but  here  at  Versailles 
we  live  upon  the  crater  of  a  volcano,  which  is 
ever  ready  to  break  out,  and  we  know  not  what 
each  day  may  bring  forth.  We  can  only  plan 
as  best  we  may,  and  hope  that  something  may 
arise  to  confuse  our  enemies." 

The  few  days  which  remained  of  Robert's 
stay  in  France  passed  all  too  rapidly,  and  the 
last  evening  before  the  sailing  of  the  ship  was 
at  hand.  He  and  Anne  had  spent  the  after- 
noon taking  a  farewell  walk  through  the  beauti- 
ful park,  jealous  of  each  passing  moment. 

"  See,  Anne,"  said  Robert,  "  here  is  the  very 
spot  where  I  first  spoke  to  you,  and  you  up- 
braided me  for  my  presumption." 
[206] 


"  I  could  not  believe  that  it  was  you,  Robert. 
It  seemed  as  if  one  spoke  from  the  past." 

"  But  I  am  very  much  of  the  present,  am  I 
not  ? "  asked  Robert,  laughing. 

"  To-day  you  are,  my  beloved,  but  where  will 
you  be  to-morrow  or  the  next  day  ?  I  cannot 
bear  to  have  you  go,  Robert.  The  old-time 
sadness  will  return,  and  these  few  weeks  we 
have  had  together  will  seem  but  as  a  brief, 
delusive  dream." 

"  But  four  months  hence  we  can  again  take 
up  the  dream,  dear  one,  and  then  it  will  have 
no  ending." 

The  approaching  dusk  warned  them  that  they 
must  return  to  the  palace,  for  Robert  had  yet 
to  say  good-bye  to  the  sad  old  man,  who  saw 
no  future  save  that  which  gloom  had  filled.  A 
faint  smile  greeted  the  two  lovers  as  they  entered 
his  apartment,  and  he  held  out  his  great  arms  to 
embrace  them  both. 

"  Farewell,  my  son.  God  grant  you  a  safe 
voyage,  and  to  us  all  a  glad  reunion  at  no  dis- 
tant time.  I  will  watch  over  our  little  maid, 
and  guard  her  for  you,  since  soon  it  must  be 
to  you  alone  that  she  may  look  for  sympathy 
and  love." 

Tears  gathered  in  the  eyes  of  all. 

"  Before  I  go,  father,"  said  Robert,  kneeling 
before  him  and  drawing  Anne  down  beside 
[207] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

him,  "  I  ask  your  blessing  to  take  with  me  over 
seas,  to  abide  with  me  until  the  happy  day  of 
your  arrival." 

The  old  man  placed  one  hand  upon  the  head 
of  each  of  the  two  who  knelt  before  him,  and 
with  tears  streaming  down  his  cheeks  he  pro- 
nounced a  benediction.  For  a  long  moment 
thereafter  they  remained  in  the  same  position 
in  silence.  Then  they  rose,  and  the  two  lovers 
were  clasped  in  a  farewell  embrace.  With  a 
hearty  grasp  of  his  hand  Robert  parted  with  the 
old  man,  and  without  trusting  himself  to  speak 
again,  he  hurried  from  the  room  and  threw  him- 
self upon  his  horse.  A  moment  later  the  clatter 
of  hoofs  announced  that  he  had  started  upon 
his  ride  to  Paris.  A  flutter  of  handkerchiefs, 
a  glimpse  of  December  and  May  standing 
together  behind  him,  and  Robert  Cavelier,  the 
Sieur  de  La  Salle,  was  alone  upon  his  journey. 
The  next  morning  at  daybreak  found  him 
upon  the  ship,  and  what  seemed  to  him  but  a 
few  hours  later  nothing  but  a  hazy  outline 
showed  what  was  the  coast  of  France. 


[208] 


FATE -PROVES 
ITSELF-MORE 
POTENT 
'STRATEGY 


HEN      ROBERT      RE- 

turned  to  Quebec  with  a 
title  of  nobility  and  in  pos- 
session of  perhaps  the  most 
valuable  seigniory  in  all  New 
France,  even  Jean  Cavelier 
and  his  fellow  Jesuits  were 
forced  to  admit  to  themselves  that  the  object  of 
their  enmity  had  gained  strength  by  his  visit  to 
France.  They  were  at  a  loss,  however,  to  ex- 
plain the  cause  of  their  defeat.  They  could  not 
believe  that  their  Order  was  losing  its  hold  upon 
the  King,  yet  this  man,  admittedly  dangerous 
to  them,  had  returned  from  the  lion's  den  cov- 
ered with  honours  instead  of  in  disgrace,  as 
they  had  hoped  would  be  the  case. 

Frontenac  was  deeply  interested  in  the  report 
which  Robert  brought  of  conditions  in  France. 
It  was  no  surprise  to  him,  yet  it  was  a  hard 
blow  to  have  his  worst  fears  confirmed.  It  had 
been  his  dearest  ambition  to  hold  New  France 
against  the  English,  but  now  the  sagacious  sol- 
H  [  209  ] 


dier  saw  clearly  the  hopelessness  of  the  task. 
He  recognised  that  his  recall  was  inevitable, 
and  this  certainty  caused  him  completely  to 
change  his  attitude.  From  this  time  on  he 
would  exercise  the  authority  of  his  position  to 
the  utmost,  strengthening  the  colony  to  the 
advantage  of  his  successor.  It  would  make 
him  still  more  hated  by  the  priests,  and  would 
undoubtedly  result  in  an  earlier  recall ;  but 
New  France,  and  he  hoped  France  as  well, 
would  eventually  profit  by  his  course. 

Robert  immediately  began  preparations  to 
establish  himself  in  his  new  possessions  before 
the  Courcelles  should  arrive  two  months  later. 
He  left  Quebec  and  garrisoned  Fort  Frontenac 
with  soldiers,  also  maintaining  there  an  army  of 
labourers,  and  rebuilding  it  with  stone  through- 
out. He  formed  a  partnership  with  the  Gov- 
ernor, Lieutenant  La  Forest,  and  with  one 
Boisseau  in  the  trading  monopoly  which  his 
seigniory  afforded ;  and  even  with  the  heavy 
royalty  promised  to  the  Crown,  it  was  apparent 
that  a  fortune  awaited  the  newly-formed  com- 
pany. Robert's  one  regret  was  that  the  dis- 
tance between  Quebec  and  the  fort  interrupted 
his  daily  intercourse  with  the  Governor ;  but 
in  spite  of  this  difficulty  the  two  men  kept  in 
close  touch  with  each  other. 

As  soon  as  the  merchants  of  the  colony  real- 
[  210] 


ised  how  valuable  a  privilege  Robert  and  his 
friends  had  obtained,  they  leagued  themselves 
in  bitter  opposition.  Even  Jacques  Le  Ber, 
who  had  been  so  intimate  a  friend  of  his  in 
Montreal,  turned  to  his  enemies,  being  deeply 
incensed  that  he  had  not  been  asked  to  join  the 
company.  Bazire,  La  Chesnaye,  Le  Moyne, 
and  other  influential  traders  opposed  him,  and 
his  position  would  have  been  a  difficult  one  to 
maintain  but  for  the  Governor's  strong  friend- 
ship and  active  cooperation. 

Jean  Cavelier  and  the  Jesuits  watched  with 
ill-concealed  jealousy  the  turn  affairs  had  at 
first  taken ;  but  they  were  now  well  satisfied  to 
see  so  strong  an  opposition  spring  up,  which 
they  could  make  play  into  their  own  hands. 
They  contributed  generously  to  the  combina- 
tion of  merchants,  both  in  funds  and  in  active 
participation,  and  the  fight  gave  promise  of  be- 
ing to  the  death  for  one  side  or  the  other. 

In  the  meantime  the  two  months  had  passed 
by,  and  one  fair  morning  the  ship  for  which 
Robert  waited  sailed  into  the  harbour.  He 
had  been  in  Quebec  more  than  a  week  awaiting 
its  arrival,  and  in  his  impatience  he  put  off  to 
the  ship  without  even  his  faithful  Piskaret  be- 
side him  in  the  frail  canoe.  The  vigorous 
strokes  of  the  paddle  placed  him  alongside  of 
the  ship  before  any  of  the  heavier  boats  of  the 
[211] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

settlers,  and  he  earnestly  scanned  the  faces  of 
the  little  company  gathered  on  the  main  deck 
for  a  sight  of  those  he  so  anxiously  awaited. 

They  were  not  there.  Surely  there  must  be 
some  mistake.  Then  he  remembered  that  they 
were  to  sail  under  assumed  names,  and  perhaps 
their  caution  led  them  to  secrete  themselves 
until  the  last  moment  to  prevent  recognition. 
With  this  hope  in  his  heart  he  watched  until 
all  the  voyagers  were  landed  ;  but  there  were  no 
signs  of  Anne  or  her  father.  He  inquired  of 
the  captain,  and  learned  that  no  such  persons 
as  he  described  had  taken  passage. 

There  was  nothing  but  to  accept  the  bitter 
disappointment ;  yet  Robert  was  filled  with 
misgivings.  Was  Anne  ill,  or  had  the  Jesuits 
prevented  her  from  sailing,  after  all  ?  The  un- 
certainty was  hardest  for  him  to  bear.  Robert 
paddled  back  to  shore  much  more  slowly  than 
he  had  gone  out  to  welcome  the  ship.  His 
position  in  the  colony,  his  prosperity,  his  hopes 
for  future  explorations,  all  meant  nothing  to  him 
unless  they  could  be  shared  with  the  woman  he 
loved. 

No  other  vessel  could  be  expected  for  another 
six  months  at  best.  It  was  necessary  again  to 
wait,  and  waiting  was  the  deepest  penance 
which  Robert  Cavelier's  spirit  could  endure. 
But  even  the  most  restless  heart  at  length 

[212] 


FATE   MORE   THAN   STRATEGY 

learns  its  lesson,  and  Robert  once  more  returned 
to  his  work  at  the  seigniory  of  Fort  Frontenac. 

The  location  of  Fort  Frontenac  was  a  partic- 
ularly favourable  one,  standing  as  it  did  sixty 
leagues  beyond  Montreal  on  the  north  side  of 
Lake  Frontenac,  facing  the  country  of  the  five 
Iroquois  nations  to  the  south.  It  might  well 
impress  the  native  savages  with  the  strength  of 
the  settlers,  as  its  construction  was  massive  and 
imposing.  A  moat  fifteen  feet  wide  surrounded 
the  fort  itself,  which  formed  a  square  with  four 
bastions.  The  walls  were  twelve  feet  high  and 
three  feet  thick,  enclosing  a  building  made  of 
hewn  timber,  a  hundred  feet  long.  Besides  this 
there  were  a  forge,  a  dwelling  for  Robert's  offi- 
cers, and  a  cow  stable.  Near  by  the  land  had 
been  cleared  ready  for  cultivation,  and  a  grange 
was  in  process  of  erection  for  storing  the  bounti- 
ful harvests  of  which  Robert  seemed  assured. 
The  force  of  soldiers  and  workmen  with  which 
the  Governor  had  supplied  him  had  already  ac- 
complished much,  and  the  fort  began  to  assume 
finished  proportions. 

The  Jesuits  felt  it  necessary  at  this  time  to 
redouble  their  efforts  to  hold  their  power. 
Frontenac  had  hit  them  hard  both  directly  and 
indirectly  by  the  vigorous  maintenance  of  his 
own  authority.  Even  when  apparently  yield- 
ing he  invariably  carried  his  point.  Recognis- 
[213] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

ing  a  strong  hand  at  the  helm,  traders  flocked 
into  the  country,  feeling  secure  that  their  inter- 
ests would  be  protected  ;  and  as  a  result  New 
France  grew  from  a  mission  into  a  colony. 

But  the  contact  of  these  traders  with  the 
Indians  did  much  to  nullify  the  work  of  the 
priests,  for  the  savages  learned  readily  from 
the  white  man,  and  did  not  accept  the  teachings 
of  the  missions  with  such  unqualified  confidence. 
In  addition  to  this  grievance,  the  Jesuits  de- 
pended upon  the  revenue  derived  from  their 
secret  participation  in  the  fur-trade  far  more 
than  they  would  have  admitted ;  and  here 
again  the  traders  seriously  interfered  with  them. 
Their  troubles  were  accumulating  one  by  one, 
and  the  formation  of  the  new  company  at  Fort 
Frontenac,  which  seemed  the  triumph  of  their 
enemies,  was  a  misfortune  requiring  thoughtful 
consideration. 

Bishop  Laval  summoned  the  members  of  the 
Order  to  a  conference  where  matters  were  care- 
fully reviewed  and  discussed.  It  was  quite  evi- 
dent that  the  Governor  and  Robert  were  the 
two  men  most  necessary  to  be  removed  from 
their  path.  The  Governor  must  be  handled 
through  the  efforts  of  those  high  in  authority 
and  influence  at  Court,  but  they  themselves 
could  deal  with  the  renegade  novice.  Their 
tenets  required  absolute  secrecy  and  security  to 

[214] 


FATE    MORE   THAN   STRATEGY 

the  Order  in  a  case  like  this,  which  made  it 
impossible  to  carry  out  what  was  in  the  minds 
of  all  since  Robert  had  advised  the  Governor  of 
the  threat,  and  Frontenac  would  not  hesitate 
to  investigate  searchingly  any  accident  which 
befell  him.  Definite  action  must  be  deferred 
until  a  safer  time,  but  in  the  meanwhile  diplo- 
macy might  afford  temporary  relief. 

Jean  Cavelier,  both  because  of  his  natural 
characteristics  and  of  his  relationship  to  Robert, 
was  selected  by  the  priests  to  make  the  attempt. 
The  details  of  the  plan  were  carefully  arranged, 
and  Father  Cavelier's  instructions  from  the 
Bishop  were  clear  and  definite. 

Had  Robert  known  all  this,  he  would  not 
have  been  surprised  to  see  his  brother  approach- 
ing the  seigniory  one  morning ;  but  as  it  was,  he 
merely  wondered  to  himself  what  new  treachery 
was  on  foot. 

Jean  entered  the  nearly-completed  fort  with 
perfect  self-command  and  confidence,  at  once 
approaching  Robert.  The  latter  stood  beside 
a  pile  of  stones  giving  no  sign  of  recognition. 
It  was  the  first  time  he  had  seen  his  brother 
since  his  return  from  France. 

"  A  greeting,  brother,"  said  Jean,  cordially, 
holding  out  his  hand. 

Robert  made  no  move  to  accept  the  prof- 
fered friendship. 

[215] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

"  What  Devil's  errand  brings  you  here, 
Jean  ? "  he  asked  brusquely.  "  I  do  not  flatter 
myself  that  you  have  come  to  congratulate  me 
upon  my  safe  return." 

"You  wrong  me,  Robert.  I  have  come  to 
make  amends  for  past  mistakes.  I  have  mis- 
judged you,  and  admit  my  error.  Now  that 
you  have  been  in  France  and  have  settled  your 
misunderstanding  with  the  Father  Superior, 
as  you  must  have  done  to  receive  such  honours 
at  the  hand  of  the  King,  'twould  surely  be 
unbrotherly  to  criticise  you  further.  Come, 
let  us  forget  the  past  and  begin  this  day  to 
live  as  brothers  should,  in  sympathy  and  con- 
cord." 

In  spite  of  Robert's  surprise,  the  unexpected 
change  in  his  brother's  attitude  did  not  deceive 
him.  He  knew  Jean  Cavelier  too  well  not 
to  understand  that  a  hatred  once  engendered 
never  left  him,  nor  did  he  overlook  the  fact  that 
Jean  was  master  of  the  art  of  simulation.  He 
regarded  him  curiously  for  a  moment.  There 
must  be  some  interesting  plot  at  the  bottom  of 
this  suddenly-developed  affection,  and  there  was 
but  one  way  to  learn  it. 

"  So  be  it,  Jean,"  he  said.  "  Since  you,  the 
older  brother,  make  the  advances  for  our  recon- 
ciliation, it  would  ill  become  me,  the  younger, 
to  be  less  generous.  I  quite  agree  with  you, 

[216] 


FATE   MORE   THAN   STRATEGY 

and  shall  reciprocate  your  proffered  friendship 
with  equal  sincerity." 

Jean  smiled  benignly. 

"  We  have  differed  in  the  past,  my  brother, 
but  we  have  differed  honestly.  I  thought  you 
fitted  to  follow  in  my  footsteps,  and  sought  to 
provide  for  you  the  opportunity.  You  have 
proved  me  wrong  in  this,  and  I  acknowledge 
my  mistake.  Your  strength  lies  in  another  di- 
rection, and  in  a  direction  equally  important. 
The  secrets  of  the  forests,  the  sources  of  the 
rivers,  and  the  boundaries  of  our  empire  must 
needs  be  discovered  and  extended  ;  and  you  are 
the  only  man  in  the  colony  to  accomplish  this. 
I  congratulate  you,  and  I  wish  you  success." 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  good  wishes,  Jean,  and 
I  shall  endeavour  to  merit  your  confidence," 
replied  Robert,  drily. 

Jean  bit  his  lip,  but  the  smile  had  been  re- 
stored by  the  time  Robert's  eye  met  his. 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  aid  you  in  your  under- 
takings, Robert,  to  prove  the  sincerity  of  my 
affection.  I  think,  too,  that  I  can  improve 
your  standing  with  the  fathers,  who  will  take 
my  judgment  to  offset  past  prejudices.  Will 
you  accept  my  assistance  ? " 

"  Might  I  first  ask  what  conditions  are  to  be 
imposed  ? " 

"  Conditions  ?  None  whatever  !  You  are 
[217] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

anxious,  naturally,  to  set  out  upon  your  expedi- 
tion as  soon  as  possible,  instead  of  wasting"  your 
time  in  these  business  affairs  which  must  prove 
irksome  to  a  man  of  your  temperament.  If  I 
can  aid  you  in  gratifying  your  desires,  I  shall 
indeed  be  pleased." 

.  Light  was  beginning  to  break  a  little  in 
Robert's  mind.  If  he  could  be  gotten  out  of 
the  colony  immediately,  not  only  would  Fron- 
tenac  be  deprived  of  a  valuable  ally,  but  the 
success  of  the  monopoly  at  Fort  Frontenac 
would  be  greatly  impaired.  Robert  smiled  to 
himself,  but  he  wished  to  play  with  his  quarry 
a  while  longer. 

"  You  are  most  discerning,  brother  Jean.  I 
had  not  believed  that  you  could  discover  that 
which  my  closest  friends  have  overlooked.  It 
shows  a  brother's  intuition.  I  value  the  friend- 
liness of  the  offer,  but  I  fear  that  there  is  little 
you  could  do  by  way  of  assistance,  however 
strong  your  intentions." 

"  I  can  provide  you  with  money  and  with 
men." 

"  How  can  you,  a  priest,  supply  me  with 
money  or  with  men  ?  Or  perhaps  you  come 
to  me  as  a  messenger  of  your  Order,  to  offer 
me  in  their  name  that  which  you  cannot  give 
yourself  ?  And  the  men  you  speak  of  would,  I 
suppose,  be  Jesuits  ? " 

[218] 


FATE   MORE   THAN   STRATEGY 

"  Yes,"  answered  Jean,  quickly ;  "  but  what 
of  that  ?  They  would  be  in  your  service  and 
under  your  command." 

Robert's  amusement  gave  way  to  fierce  in- 
dignation. It  was  all  so  simple,  so  patent,  that 
it  was  an  insult  to  his  intelligence  to  suppose 
that  he  could  be  so  duped.  The  smile  vanished 
from  Jean's  face  as  he  beheld  the  change  which 
came  over  his  brother,  and  he  drew  back  a  step 
as  Robert  began  to  speak. 

"In  my  service  and  under  my  command  ? 
Truly,  but  well  instructed  before  they  quit 
Quebec  to  leave  a  knife  driven  to  the  hilt  in 
the  body  of  the  poor  explorer  who  was  fool 
enough  to  accept  their  services !  I  think  we 
understand  each  other,  Jean.  Go  back  to 
your  brothers  in  the  faith,  and  tell  them  that 
the  Sieur  de  La  Salle,  even  though  he  be 
your  brother,  has  not  yet  reached  that  point 
of  degradation  where  he  would  sell  out  his  as- 
sociates for  the  gratification  of  his  ambition, 
nor  try  to  buy  traitorous  assistance  with  honest 
promises." 

"  You  make  a  great  mistake  -   "  began  Jean. 

"  Silence ! "  roared  Robert,  his  anger  past 
control.  "  Go  back,  I  say,  and  tell  them  that 
nothing  but  the  fact  that  the  same  blood  runs 
in  our  veins  prevented  Robert  Cavelier  from 
quieting  his  brother's  lying  tongue  forever.  Go 
[219] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

back,  and  never  cross  my  path  again,  or  your 
blood  be  upon  your  own  head.  Go  !  " 

Jean  Cavelier  was  too  great  a  coward  not  to 
heed  the  command,  but  when  a  safe  distance 
had  been  placed  between  them,  he  paused  and 
looked  back.  His  face  still  twitched  with  sup- 
pressed rage,  and  his  voice  trembled  so  that 
Robert  could  scarcely  catch  the  words. 

"Again  you  have  reviled  me,  Robert  Cave- 
lier. Again  you  have  defied  me !  But  mark  me 
well.  The  day  will  come  when  I  shall  pay  in 
full  my  reckoning,  and  as  God  lives,  when  that 
day  comes  I  will  show  no  mercy  ! "  and  shaking 
his  fist  defiantly  at  the  seignior  of  Fort  Fronte- 
nac,  he  disappeared  over  the  top  of  the  hill  which 
led  down  to  the  river. 

But  fate  was  to  succeed  where  strategy  had 
failed.  Eight  months  and  more  had  passed 
since  Robert's  return  to  New  France,  and  a 
second  ship  had  arrived  without  bringing  to  him 
the  realisation  of  his  hopes  or  any  word  concern- 
ing the  Courcelles.  He  was  convinced  that  the 
worst  had  happened,  for  surely  Anne  would 
have  sent  him  at  least  a  message  explaining  their 
delay.  He  blamed  himself  for  having  left  them  ; 
he  might  have  suffered  and  died  with  them 
there  in  France  if  worst  had  come  to  worst. 
Frontenac  did  what  he  could  to  keep  hope  alive 
in  Robert's  heart,  but  the  old  soldier  was  too 

[220] 


FATE   MORE   THAN   STRATEGY 

familiar  with  life  at  the  Court  of  Louis  XIV.  to 
be  any  too  sure  himself  that  the  young  man's 
apprehensions  were  not  fully  justified. 

Frontenac,  however,  had  other  matters,  and 
serious  ones,  to  cause  him  grave  anxiety.  The 
Iroquois  for  months  had  been  sullen  and  restless, 
and  during  the  last  fortnight  had  attacked 
several  of  the  smaller  outlying  settlements.  It 
was  again  necessary  to  teach  them  a  lesson,  and 
Robert,  in  command  of  the  soldiers  at  Quebec, 
must  head  the  troops.  In  his  present  condition 
Robert  welcomed  anything  that  would  distract 
his  mind  from  its  great  burden,  and  his  absence 
from  Quebec  need  not  be  long ;  so,  less  than  two 
weeks  after  Jean's  visit  to  him,  and  his  angry 
refusal  to  fall  into  the  trap  of  the  Jesuit  priests, 
he  voluntarily  set  out  upon  an  undertaking 
even  more  dangerous,  leaving  Fort  Frontenac  in 
charge  of  La  Forest,  his  lieutenant  and  friend. 


[221  ] 


OBERT'S  FEARS   THAT 

he  might  never  again  see 
Anne  CourceUe  were  in  re- 
ality well  founded.  In  that 
last  glimpse  of  her,  waving 
good-bye  to  him  at  Ver- 
sailles, he  little  knew  how 
much  her  woman's  heart  must  yet  endure  in 
suffering  and  in  sorrow  before  she  could  turn 
her  face  toward  that  New  World  in  which  she 
hoped  at  last  to  find  happiness  and  rest. 

Anne  and  her  father  watched  the  solitary 
horseman  until  even  the  distant  cloud  of  dust 
had  entirely  vanished,  and  then,  almost  at  the 
same  moment,  they  turned  to  each  other. 

"  When  shall  we  see  him  again,  my  father  ? " 
asked  Anne,  choking  back  the  sobs  which 
struggled  to  gain  control  of  her.  "  If  it  were 
not  for  you,  dear,  my  courage  would  not  en- 
dure this  latest  trial." 

Her  father  drew  her  nearer  to  him. 

"  Tut,  tut,  daughter ;  it  is  not  meet  that  you 


ANNE  RETURNS  TO  NEW  FRANCE 

should  take  so  dark  a  view.  For  me,  life  is 
nearly  at  its  close,  but  for  you,  my  child,  it 
is  only  just  beginning.  It  is  hard,  I  know, 
after  so  long  a  sorrow,  to  have  another  disap- 
pointment forced  upon  you  ;  but  we  may  yet 
hope  to  find  our  happiness  upon  the  further 
shore  of  that  great  sea  which  soon  will  bear 
your  lover  upon  its  bosom." 

Together  they  walked  slowly  back  to  the 
palace,  where  they  separated,  —  Anne  to  take 
up  her  duties  with  the  Princess  Palatine,  the 
old  soldier  to  resume  the  uneventful  life  at  his 
quarters.  Time  was  not  treating  Courcelle  as 
kindly  now  as  formerly.  Struggling  as  he  had 
against  such  fearful  odds  in  New  France  only 
to  return  to  a  polite  retirement  in  France, 
amidst  scenes  which  were  most  irksome,  the 
last  few  years  bore  heavily  upon  him.  But 
Anne,  with  all  her  watchfulness,  failed  to  rec- 
ognise how  plainly  each  day  left  its  mark  upon 
him,  or  how  much  it  cost  of  his  strength  to 
keep  up  the  deception  which  prevented  her  from 
realising  it. 

Every  day  now  the  two  spent  as  much  time 
as  possible  together,  planning  for  their  voyage. 
Little  by  little  the  plain  wardrobe,  which  was 
to  replace  the  gorgeous  attire  of  the  maid  of 
honour,  grew  beneath  Anne's  skilful  fingers. 
As  her  interest  increased,  and  the  day  for 

[223] 


ROBERT   CAVELIER 

departure  approached,  her  spirits  rose,  and  she 
regained  her  old-time  confidence. 

It  was  a  sweet  sight  to  see  the  old  man 
watching  Anne  as  she  worked  beside  him  while 
they  talked  over  their  future,  entering  into  her 
plans  with  all  the  eagerness  which  he  could 
assume.  But  his  thoughts  were  far  away.  It 
was  not  his  daughter  whom  he  saw  before  him, 
but  rather  another  brown-eyed  woman  who  had 
left  him  more  than  twenty  years  before.  He 
was  living  over  again  those  few  brief  months 
of  his  married  life,  listening  to  the  sweet  music 
which  had  ceased  for  him  so  soon.  He  was 
the  lover  once  again ;  and  he  forgot  his  bur- 
dens and  his  sorrows. 

The  two  months  had  nearly  passed  now,  and 
but  three  days  remained  before  Anne  and  her 
father  were  to  slip  away  from  Versailles  forever, 
and  again  set  foot  upon  that  untamed  continent 
which  resisted  the  conqueror's  hand  with  such 
persistence.  Passage  was  engaged  under  as- 
sumed names,  and  Anne  was  sitting  in  her 
father's  room,  taking  the  last  stitches  and  talk- 
ing over  the  final  details.  Both  were  eager 
to  get  away,  for  it  became  more  evident  each 
day  that  the  hand  which  now  guided  the  for- 
tunes of  Louis  XIV.  was  a  steady  one,  and  that 
his  absolute  recognition  of  the  Jesuit  suprem- 
acy was  the  inevitable  goal.  If  they  were  to 
[224  ] 


ANNE  RETURNS  TO  NEW  FRANCE 

become  fugitives  at  all,  the  time  could  not 
come  too  soon. 

Father  and  daughter  had  been  sitting  as 
usual  for  an  hour  or  more  when  the  conver- 
sation turned  upon  Anne's  childhood. 

"Can  you  remember  when  I  was  a  little  girl, 
father,  and  cried  because  you  would  not  let 
me  go  into  a  boat  upon  the  lake  ?  We  little 
thought  then  what  long  voyages  we  would 
take  together,  did  we,  dear?" 

"  Nay,  nay,  my  child ;  we  little  thought  it. 
I  could  not  bear  to  let  you  from  my  sight,  for 
you  were  all  I  had." 

"  Am  I  very  like  my  mother,  father  ?  You 
often  tell  me  so." 

"  Yes,  daughter  ;  very,  very  like." 

The  old  man's  eyes  became  dreamy,  and  he 
did  not  seem  to  hear  the  next  question. 

"  I  wish  I  might  have  seen  her,  father ;  I 
wish  I  too  might  have  known  her." 

There  was  no  response,  and  the  grey  head  sank 
lower  upon  his  breast,  but  Anne  continued  with 
her  work.  Suddenly  the  old  man  straightened 
up,  and  his  eyes  shone  bright  and  clear.  He 
seemed  to  be  listening  to  some  one  speaking, 
yet  Anne  could  hear  no  sound.  She  dropped 
her  work  hastily  and  placed  her  hand  upon  his 
shoulder. 

"Father  —  father  —  "  she  cried,  thoroughly 
15  [  225  ] 


alarmed ;  "  what  is  it  ?  Tell  me  what  it 
is!" 

"  I  hear  your  mother  calling  me,  my  child, 
—  your  mother  calling.  Ah,  Re'ne'e,  my  be- 
loved, I  am  coming  to  you  !  Oh,  how  long  I 
have  waited  !  Re'ne'e,  Re'ne'e,  I  am  coming !  " 

Before  Anne  could  prevent  it  the  old  man 
was  upon  his  feet,  staggering  to  the  door.  Ere 
he  reached  it  his  strength  gave  way  and  he 
sank  upon  the  floor.  Anne  raised  his .  head 
and  held  it  in  her  lap.  His  eyes  were  closed, 
but  his  face  was  illumined  with  that  light  which 
only  comes  from  Heaven. 

"  Patience,  Rene'e,  I  am  coming  to  you. 
So  long  we  have  waited  !  —  so  long,  so  long  !  " 

The  words  came  faintly  with  the  fleeting 
breath,  and  with  the  last  the  old  man  kept  his 
promise.  No  more  would  the  Sieur  de  Cour- 
celle  fight  battles  for  France ;  no  more  would 
he  guard  the  infant  colony  against  the  inroads 
of  the  wily  Indians ;  no  more  would  he'  tread 
the  snowy  paths  about  Quebec.  His  labours 
were  completed,  and  his  soul  had  found  its  rest. 

To  Anne  it  was  not  the  Sieur  de  Courcelle 
whose  head  she  held  in  her  lap :  it  was  the 
father  who  had  been  mother  as  well  to  her 
ever  since  she  came  into  the  world ;  it  was 
the  counselor,  the  constant  companion,  the 
oak  upon  which  she  leaned.  The  blow  fell  so 

[226] 


ANNE  RETURNS  TO  NEW  FRANCE 

swiftly  that  a  full  realisation  did  not  at  once 
come  to  the  girl,  and  she  covered  the  dear  face 
with  caresses  as  if  to  force  Death  to  give  back 
its  own. 

At  last  it  was  evident  to  her  that  the  end 
had  come,  and  she  gently  placed  the  cloak 
upon  which  she  had  been  working  beneath  the 
grizzled  head,  and  rose  to  her  feet,  keeping  her 
eyes  upon  the  body  before  her.  There  was  no 
cry ;  there  were  no  tears.  She  moved  toward 
the  door  like  one  in  a  dream,  and  opening  it 
summoned  assistance.  The  old  man  was  ten- 
derly laid  upon  his  bed  by  the  guardsmen  who 
came  in  quick  response  to  Anne's  call,  and 
then  they  turned  to  the  silent  figure  standing 
beside  them.  They  called  her  by  name,  but 
there  was  no  reply.  They  led  her  to  a  chair  and 
forced  her  gently  into  it.  The  great  brown  eyes 
looked  blankly  into  space.  She  obeyed  meekly, 
but  gave  no  recognition  either  by  speech  or 
deed.  Thoroughly  alarmed,  one  of  the  guards 
hastened  to  the  palace  for  assistance,  the  other 
keeping  watch  over  the  living  even  as  she  kept 
watch  over  the  dead.  When  two  of  her  com- 
panions came  with  blanched  faces  to  take  her 
to  her  room  in  the  palace,  she  made  no  resist- 
ance, following  their  guidance  still  without  a 
word  in  answer  to  their  sympathy. 

For  weeks  she  lay  hovering  between  life  and 
[227] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

death.  Her  father  had  been  so  real,  so  close  to 
her,  that  when  his  heart  ceased  beating  it  was 
as  if  a  part  of  her  own  life  had  also  ceased. 
Her  youth  and  the  loving  care  of  friends  at  last 
triumphed,  and  nearly  two  months  later  the 
Court  physicians  pronounced  her  out  of  danger. 
It  would  be  long  yet  before  her  strength  would 
fully  return,  but  the  crisis  was  past  and  recov- 
ery assured. 

Her  first  thought  was  of  Robert,  but  there 
was  no  possible  way  to  send  word  to  him.  A 
message  intrusted  to  any  one  of  the  household 
would  probably  result  in  putting  it  forever 
beyond  her  power  to  leave  Versailles.  Hard  as 
it  was  for  her  and  for  him,  she  must  wait  until 
she  became  strong  enough  to  move  about  by 
herself,  when  she  could  safely  appeal  to  Robert's 
friend,  the  Prince  de  Conti.  Robert  alone 
was  to  comfort  her,  and  she  longed  for  her 
strength  to  return  that  she  might  go  to  him. 

Her  strong  desire  aided  her  convalescence. 
At  length  she  could  walk  out  in  the  park  ;  but 
what  memories  it  recalled !  Here  she  had 
strolled  day  after  day  with  her  father ;  here  she 
had  walked  with  Robert.  Winter  held  the  land 
in  the  full  strength  of  its  sway,  and  there 
was  winter  in  Anne's  heart. 

She  saw  the  Prince  de  Conti,  and  he  gladly 
promised  to  assist  her  in  getting  away  upon  the 

[228] 


ANNE  RETURNS  TO  NEW  FRANCE 

next  ship,  but  even  so  two  boats  had  gone  with- 
out her,  and  she  knew  how  anxious  Robert  must 
have  become.  She  lived  only  for  the  day  of 
departure,  and  the  time  went  by  on  leaden 
wings.  She  was  but  a  shadow  of  her  former 
self,  and  no  one  questioned  when  she  asked  per- 
mission to  retire  from  Court  for  a  time  to  visit 
relatives  in  Paris.  Nor  would  any  one  have  rec- 
ognised in  the  sad,  pale-faced  Mademoiselle 
Re'my,  who  took  passage  upon  the  vessel  bound 
for  New  France,  Mademoiselle  de  Courcelle, 
the  beautiful  maid  of  honour  to  the  Princess 
Palatine. 

The  voyage  was  long  and  tempestuous,  but 
after  nine  weeks'  tossing  upon  the  sea,  the  weary 
voyagers  at  length  beheld  Quebec  before  them. 
To  Anne  the  scene  was  not  a  novel  one,  and 
her  eyes  were  strained  only  to  catch  sight  of 
the  face  which  had  ever  been  before  her  since 
France  faded  away  in  the  distance.  Her  heart 
throbbed  almost  painfully  at  the  thought  that 
at  last  she  could  rest  her  tired  head  upon  her 
lover's  breast,  and  find  in  his  strong  arms  that 
sympathy  for  which  she  longed.  She  was  not 
as  strong  after  her  illness  as  she  had  believed, 
and  hope  alone  sustained  her  weakness. 

Were  it  not  for  that  hope  which  ever  shines 
through  sorrow,  the  burden  of  grief  would  surely 
prove  too  heavy  to  be  borne  ;  but  the  intellect  is 

[229  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

stronger  than  the  heart,  and  it  is  well  that  it 
always  receives  the  first  force  of  the  blow,  trans- 
mitting it  to  the  weaker  member  with  merciful 
tenderness. 

Excitement  brought  a  touch  of  colour  to 
Anne's  cheek,  and  her  eyes  shone  with  expectant 
relief  as  she  searched  for  Robert  in  the  many 
boats  and  canoes  which  came  out  from  the  shore ; 
but  her  quest  proved  unsuccessful.  She  saw  a 
few  faces  which  she  recognised,  but  that  voice 
for  the  sound  of  which  her  heart  waited,  calling 
her  name  and  impatiently  awaiting  her  response, 
was  silent,  and  she  felt  faint  as  the  thought 
came  to  her  that  perhaps  some  misfortune  had 
befallen  Robert.  Surely  he  would  have  been 
the  first  to  welcome  the  ship  in  the  harbour  had 
he  been  able  to  get  there.. 

She  grasped  the  rail  before  her  for  support, 
and  closed  her  eyes.  If  Robert  was  taken  from 
her,  then  indeed  was  the  world  swallowed  up  in 
darkness.  He  was  her  last  hope,  her  one  desire. 
She  could  bear  the  suspense  no  longer.  Re- 
gaining control  of  herself  with  great  effort,  she 
called  down  to  the  occupant  of  the  little  boat 
nearest  to  where  she  stood. 

"  Know  you,  sir,  if  Master  Cavelier  came  out 
to  meet  the  ship  ? " 

The  man  looked  up  at  her,  surprised  at  being 
accosted  by  a  strange  voice  from  the  ship. 

[230] 


ANNE  RETURNS  TO  NEW  FRANCE 

"  Master  Cavelier,  say  you  ? "  he  asked.  "  Nay, 
fair  mistress  ;  Master  Cavelier  left  Quebec  a 
month  since,  pursuing  the  Iroquois,  and  we  have 
had  no  word  of  him." 

Anne  could  scarcely  frame  an  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  reply.  Her  voice  was  choked,  and 
her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  Still,  as  her  thoughts 
came  rapidly,  this  news  was  better  than  what 
she  had  at  first  feared.  There  was  no  reason  to 
think  that  Robert  was  not  both  alive  and  well, 
and  if  he  had  been  away  some  little  time,  he 
must  the  sooner  return  ;  and  she  could  wait  for 
him.  Hope  again  offered  her  a  respite,  and  she 
suffered  herself  to  be  transferred  into  one  of  the 
boats  and  conveyed  in  silence  to  the  shore. 

The  ship  brought  over  six  "  King's  maids," 
as  they  were  called,  who  came  from  France 
seeking  husbands  in  the  New  World.  For 
this  reason  the  unmarried  men  of  the  colony 
gathered  about  the  landing-place  to  inspect  the 
new  arrivals.  It  was  but  natural,  unattended 
as  she  was,  that  Anne  should  be  mistaken  for 
one  of  these  girls ;  and  as  the  little  boat  ap- 
proached the  shore,  a  commotion  was  evident 
among  the  party  awaiting  the  landing  of  the 
voyagers. 

No  sooner  had  Anne  stepped  ashore  than 
the  foremost  of  these  men  seized  her  by  the  arm 
and  attempted  to  hurry  her  through  the  crowd. 

[231  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

Before  she  could  protest  a  second  man  grasped 
her  by  the  other  arm,  so  that  the  frightened  girl 
knew  not  which  way  to  turn.  Her  first  captor, 
however,  solved  the  difficulty  at  once,  by  strik- 
ing his  rival  a  powerful  blow,  which  stretched 
him  senseless  upon  the  beach.  Anne  drew  back 
in  terror,  but  the  man  again  seized  her  by 
the  arm  and  hurried  her  away. 

As  soon  as  an  open  space  was  reached,  Anne 
escaped  from  his  grasp  and  confronted  him  with 
flaming  eyes  and  burning  cheeks. 

"  What  means  this  insolence,  sir  ?  Has  Que- 
bec fallen  so  low  that  a  maid  may  not  land 
upon  its  shores  without  receiving  a  welcome  so 
insulting  ? " 

The  man  laughed  coarsely,  and  again  at- 
tempted to  seize  her  arm  ;  but  she  evaded  him. 

"  Have  a  care,  hussy,"  said  he.  "  I  Ve  paid 
my  hundred  pounds  of  tobacco  for  you,  and 
I  '11  have  my  goods,  even  though  I  draw  a 
vixen  for  my  lot." 

"  What  mean  you  ? "  cried  Anne,  aghast  as 
she  understood  his  meaning.  "  Do  you  think 
me  one  of  those  shameless  things  which  must 
needs  be  bought  and  sold  like  so  many  cattle  ? 
I  have  indeed  come  to  seek  a  husband,  but  not 
from  such  as  you.  Were  he  here,  you  would 
not  live  to  speak  another  word  to  me." 

"  'T  is  a  temper  you  have,  right  enough,  my 
[  232] 


ANNE  RETURNS  TO  NEW  FRANCE 

pretty  ;  but  I  '11  take  my  chances.  I  Ve  tamed 
heifers  and  colts,  and  I  'm  not  afraid  to  try  your 
restless  spirit.  Come  along  to  the  priest  and  be 
married." 

He  grasped  Anne  roughly  by  the  shoulder, 
with  one  arm  about  her  waist,  and  forced  her 
on  toward  the  market-place,  where  several 
couples  were  already  standing,  awaiting  their 
turn  to  be  made  man  and  wife.  Anne  struggled 
in  vain  against  the  strength  of  the  man  beside 
her.  The  spectators  considered  it  an  amusing 
episode,  and  made  no  attempt  to  interfere. 

Anne  glanced  about  her  in  despair.  There 
was  no  one  but  the  Jesuit  father  to  whom  she 
could  appeal.  She  waited  in  silence  until  the 
other  couples  had  been  united,  and  then  as 
the  priest  began  the  service,  she  threw  herself 
at  his  feet. 

"  Oh,  father,  save  me  from  this  humiliation ! 
I  am  not  a  King's  maid,  but  have  come  to  meet 
my  true  affianced  husband." 

The  father  raised  her  to  her  feet,  and  the  girl 
looked  beseechingly  into  his  face. 

"  Robert ! "  she  cried  aghast,  "  surely  it  is  not 
yOU>  —  so  thin,  so  pale,  and  in  a  priest's  attire  ! " 

"  I  am  Father  Jean  Cavelier,"  replied  the 
priest,  calmly,  gazing  attentively  at  the  girl 
before  him.  "For  whom  did  you  mistake 

me?" 

[233] 


"  Jean  Cavelier,  —  Robert's  brother ! "  she 
cried.  "  Then  surely  you  will  savre  me.  I  am 
Anne  Courcelle,  and  Robert  has  expected  my 
arrival." 

Jean  suppressed  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 

"  My  dear  sister,"  said  he,  smiling  blandly  as 
he  took  her  hand  in  his,  "  I  am  indeed  rejoiced 
to  see  you,  though  pained  that  you  should  have 
had  this  unpleasant  experience.  I  fear,  too, 
that  I  am  much  to  blame,  for  my  brother  asked 
me  to  welcome  you  in  his  stead,  knowing  that 
he  might  be  delayed  in  returning  from  his  expe- 
dition. My  duties  kept  me  from  being  at  the 
ship." 

The  expectant  bridegroom  sullenly  withdrew, 
cursing  the  mistake  which  cost  him  his  oppor- 
tunity of  gaining  a  wife,  as  the  King's  maids 
had  already  found  their  mates.  He  must  wait 
until  another  ship  arrived,  and  Colbert  succeeded 
in  gathering  another  consignment  of  spouses  for 
the  colonists  of  New  France. 

Freed  from  the  presence  of  her  persecutor, 
Anne's  courage  returned,  and  she  looked  at 
Jean  inquiringly. 

"  Did  Robert  expect  you  to  welcome  me  in 
his  stead,  father  ?  I  thought  - 

"  He  has  told  you  of  our  past  differences," 
interrupted  Jean.  "  I  am  sorry  that  he  did  so, 
as  we  talked  matters  over  before  his  departure, 

[234] 


ANNE  RETURNS  TO  NEW  FRANCE 

effecting  a  reconciliation,  and  I  should  have 
been  glad  to  have  you  meet  me  without  preju- 
dice. However,  be  that  as  it  may.  It  now  re- 
mains for  me  to  prove  myself  to  you  as  I  have 
to  him,  and  I  am  glad  that  the  opportunity  has 
come  so  soon.  Who  but  his  brother,  and  a 
priest,  should  welcome  Robert's  future  wife  to 
New  France  ? " 

Anne  could  not  doubt  the  sincerity  with 
which  Jean  spoke,  and  her  experiences  had  been 
so  unlocked  for  that  she  felt  unable  to  think  for 
herself.  Jean  easily  read  what  was  passing  in 
her  mind,  and  he  hastened  to  follow  up  the  ad- 
vantage he  had  gained. 

"  My  brother  desired  me  to  place  you  with 
the  sisters  of  the  Hotel  Dieu,  who  will  care  for 
you  while  you  are  awaiting  his  return.  I  will 
take  you  to  them  now." 

The  girl  followed  the  priest  without  a  protest. 
The  present  situation  seemed  incredible,  yet  if 
Robert  had  really  become  reconciled  to  his 
brother  he  would  surely  wish  and  expect  her 
to  accept  this  protection.  She  knew  not  what 
to  do,  and  saw  no  other  alternative.  Jean  as- 
sisted her  up  the  inclined  path  leading  to  the 
Hotel  Dieu,  and  when  she  entered  there,  and 
found  herself  warmly  welcomed  by  the  sweet- 
faced  sisters,  she  forgot  that  she  was  standing  in 
the  shadow  of  the  Jesuit  cross.  Her  tired  body 

[  235] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

yielded  willingly  to  the  gentle  care  of  the  nuns, 
and  she  fell  into  an  exhausted  sleep  upon  the  bed 
in  the  little  room  to  which  they  led  her. 

Jean  Cavelier  considered  the  unexpected 
meeting  with  Robert's  betrothed  a  special  dis- 
pensation from  Heaven.  As  he  walked  rapidly 
away  from  the  Hotel  Dieu  he  smiled  exultantly 
to  himself.  Here  at  last  was  the  opportunity 
for  which  he  had  waited  to  reach  his  brother's 
vulnerable  point.  Anne  Courcelle  was  in  his 
power,  and  much  might  happen  before  the  Sieur 
de  La  SaUe  returned  from  his  expedition  against 
the  Iroquois. 


[  236  ] 


CJHAPTJEJ*  XVJ 

THE-SIEUR-DE  LA  SALLE 
UNEXPECTEDLY 

RESUMES 
HIS-EXPIORATIONS 


HE      PARTY     WHICH 

Robert  led  against  the  Iro- 
quois  was  in  striking  contrast 
to  that  which  had  set  out  with 
him  upon  his  previous  expe- 
dition. Picked  soldiers  of  the 
settlement  now  replaced  the 
murderous  adventurers  who  attempted  his  life 
on  Lake  Erie ;  and  the  faithful  Piskaret,  who 
still  followed  his  master  with  a  slave's  devotion, 
generously  shared  Robert's  friendship  with  two 
new  allies. 

Henri  de  Tonty  and  La  Mott  de  Lussiere 
came  to  Quebec  upon  the  same  ship  which  bore 
the  newly-created  Sieur  de  La  Salle  back  to  the 
scene  of  his  labours,  and  the  three  men  formed 
a  firm  bond  of  friendship  during  the  two 
months'  voyage.  Tonty  and  Robert  found 
much  in  common,  especially  after  discovering 
that  both  claimed  the  Prince  de  Conti  as 
patron  ;  and  La  Mott  charmed  them  all  by 
the  frankness  and  ease  of  his  manner,  as  well 
[237] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

as  by  his  undoubted  courage  and  sincerity. 
Robert  soon  learned  that  Tonty  had  seen  ser- 
vice in  the  Sicilian  wars,  where  he  had  lost  one 
of  his  hands,  —  now  replaced  by  one  of  iron,  ever 
carefully  concealed  by  his  glove.  His  father  had 
been  governor  of  Gaeta,  who  owing  to  political 
disturbances  in  Naples  brought  his  family  to 
France,  where  he  earned  an  enviable  reputation 
as  a  financier,  besides  inventing  that  form  of  life 
insurance  which  is  still  called  the  Tontine. 

When  it  was  known  at  the  fort  that  Robert 
was  to  be  sent  against  the  Iroquois,  both  Tonty 
and  La  Mott  asked  to  accompany  him.  This 
added  great  strength  to  the  party,  and  their 
companionship  contributed  much  in  assisting 
Robert  to  throw  off  his  overpowering  fear  that 
some  misfortune  had  befallen  Anne. 

Once  in  the  forest  again,  Robert  became 
the  explorer,  and  as  the  party  advanced  league 
after  league,  with  the  wily  Indians  retreating 
before  his  formidable  force,  the  old  fever  re- 
turned to  him.  It  was  his  desire  to  administer 
a  crushing  rebuke  to  the  savages  for  their 
broken  faith,  but  they  gave  him  no  opportunity. 
They  desisted,  however,  in  their  previous  raids 
upon  the  settlements,  so  the  chief  purpose  of 
the  expedition  was  accomplished. 

At  last  the  party  found   itself  at   Niagara, 
where   familiar   scenes  greeted   Robert's   eyes. 
[238] 


His  return  to  forest  life  filled  him  with  exhila- 
ration, and  at  this  point  an  inspiration  came  to 
him.  Why  was  this  not  his  opportunity  to 
accomplish  the  discovery  of  the  Mississippi  ? 
So  much  of  the  journey  had  already  been  cov- 
ered that  it  would  mean  a  delay  of  only  a  few 
months  in  returning  to  Quebec.  He  could  not 
have  selected  a  stronger  party  had  he  intended 
this  from  the  first,  and  his  letters-patent  from 
the  King  gave  him  the  necessary  authority. 
All  seemed  to  point  in  the  one  direction,  and 
after  a  conference  with  Tonty  and  La  Mott  his 
course  was  determined. 

The  first  step  in  Robert's  projected  enter- 
prise must  be  to  build  a  ship  upon  which  to 
convey  his  company  and  the  accumulated 
stores.  A  spot  was  found  beyond  the  cata- 
ract on  one  side  of  the  mouth  of  Cayuga 
Creek,  where  an  island  lying  some  little  dis- 
tance from  the  shore  diverted  a  part  of  the 
current  of  the  river  toward  the  eastern  bank. 

When  the  work  of  construction  was  well 
under  way,  Robert  left  Tonty  in  charge  and 
returned  to  the  mouth  of  the  river,  where  he 
began  to  build  a  rough  blockhouse.  In  spite 
of  the  necessity  of  sending  to  Fort  Frontenac 
for  supplies,  in  spite  of  the  difficulties  which 
attended  every  step  in  the  construction,  and  in 
spite  of  his  fears  that  the  Senecas,  in  whose 

[239] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

country  they  were  camping,  would  burn  the 
ship  on  the  stocks,  Tonty  succeeded  in  com- 
pleting the  boat  in  two  months'  time ;  and  in 
May  the  "  Griffon "  was  launched  amid  great 
rejoicings  on  the  part  of  the  impatient  sol- 
diers, who  were  anxious  to  proceed  upon  the 
expedition. 

Robert  returned  as  soon  as  all  was  completed, 
and  the  "  Griffon  "  was  towed  up  against  the 
current  until  she  could  set  sail  upon  the  broad 
waters  of  Lake  Erie.  For  three  days  she 
ploughed  a  path  in  the  hitherto  virgin  waves 
until  the  Strait  of  Detroit  was  reached,  and 
rolling  prairies  lay  spread  out  before  her  on 
one  hand,  great  forests  on  the  other.  Stopping 
only  long  enough  to  replenish  their  stock 
with  deer,  wild  turkey,  and  bear,  the  "  Griffon  " 
again  proceeded  upon  her  prosperous  voyage, 
-crossing  Lake  St.  Claire,  on  into  Lake 
Huron,  pointing  her  prow  toward  St.  Ignace 
of  Michilimackinac. 

But  the  waters  which  had  thus  far  received 
their  strange  visitor  with  awe  and  placidity 
now  awoke  to  the  intrusion,  resenting  the 
audacity  of  the  little  ship.  The  calmness 
turned  in  a  moment  to  a  terrific  gale,  and 
the  vessel  seemed  about  to  meet  her  doom. 
Down  upon  their  knees  fell  the  frightened  sol- 
diers, commending  themselves  to  St.  Anthony 

[240] 


RESUMES    HIS    EXPLORATIONS 

of  Padua,  and  praying  that  they  might  be 
spared  the  ignominy  of  perishing  in  fresh 
water  after  having  braved  the  dangers  of  field 
and  flood. 

Robert,  Tonty,  and  La  Mott  alone  faced  the 
situation.  The  terrified  pilot  threw  himself  face 
downward  upon  the  deck,  cursing  his  commander 
for  having  led  them  into  this  catastrophe.  Rob- 
ert seized  the  tiller,  with  one  of  his  two  friends 
on  either  side  to  prevent  the  waves  from  wash- 
ing him  overboard,  and  steered  this  plaything  of 
the  storm  through  the  night  and  danger  into  a 
morning  as  quiet  as  it  was  beautiful. 

The  weather-beaten  voyagers  again  took  heart, 
and  looked  with  glad  eyes  upon  the  palisaded 
house  and  chapel  of  the  Jesuits  which  marked 
the  St.  Ignace  mission.  The  natives  from  the 
Ottawa  village  put  out  to  the  ship  in  canoes, 
gazing  in  wonder  upon  the  unusual  sight  and 
christening  her  the  "  floating  fort  "  out  of  respect 
to  the  five  puny  cannon  which  showed  them- 
selves ominously  from  her  port-holes. 

Once  more  the  party  felt  the  firm  ground  be- 
neath their  feet.  They  would  take  their  chances 
in  the  frail  canoes,  or  they  would  toil  patiently 
through  the  unbroken  forests  ;  but  no  more 
would  they  intrust  their  lives  to  the  ship.  Rob- 
ert saw  that  remonstrance  was  useless,  so  he 
proceeded  to  buy  from  the  natives  a  valuable 
16  [  241  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

supply  of  furs,  asking  his  companions  to  proceed 
upon  the  "  Griffon  "  only  as  far  as  Green  Bay  in 
Lake  Michigan,  where  he  promised  to  complete 
his  shipment  to  his  associates  at  Fort  Frontenac, 
and  continue  the  journey  by  foot  or  canoe. 
The  party  finally  accepted  the  compromise ; 
and  at  the  appointed  spot  the  ship  exchanged 
her  human  freight  for  the  peltry  intended  to 
enrich  the  seigniory. 

Robert  watched  the  ship  as  she  drew  away 
from  Green  Bay,  again  pointed  toward  Niagara. 
His  faith  in  the  pilot  was  shaken  both  by  his 
conduct  during  the  storm  and  his  evident  eager- 
ness to  accept  the  trust.  He  could  not  have 
believed,  however,  that  this  was  to  be  the  last 
time  his  eyes  were  to  rest  upon  the  "  Griffon,"  or 
that  the  treacherous  hand  at  the  helm  would 
wreck  the  boat  upon  the  shore,  hoping  to  escape 
with  his  ill-gotten  booty.  Had  he  foreseen  this, 
it  might  have  given  him  a  grim  satisfaction  to 
know  also  that  the  savages  would  act  as  his 
avengers,  for  the  faithless  pilot  met  his  fate  at 
their  hands. 

The  depleted  party,  after  the  departure  of  the 
"  Griffon,"  at  once  embarked  in  their  canoes,  half 
the  men  accompanying  Tonty  along  the  eastern 
shore  of  the  lake,  while  Robert  and  the  rest  con- 
tinued southward  along  the  Wisconsin  shore. 
Rough  weather  still  followed  them  and  forced 
[  242  ] 


them  to  take  shelter  as  best  they  could.  Now 
crouching  about  a  miserable  driftwood  fire,  wet 
to  the  skin  in  spite  of  the  blankets  wrapped 
around  them  ;  now  swamped  as  they  attempted 
to  land  from  their  canoes,  and  obliged  to  make 
every  exertion  to  save  their  stores  ;  now  stand- 
ing on  guard  through  all  the  night  in  dread  of 
the  surrounding  natives  ;  now  living  on  Indian 
corn,  and  all  too  little  of  that,  —  on  the  hardy 
adventurers  pushed  to  the  site  of  Milwaukee, 
around  the  southern  shore  of  Lake  Michigan, 
until  they  reached  the  mouth  of  the  St. 
Joseph. 

The  divided  party  reunited  here  and  ascended 
the  St.  Joseph  for  several  days,  finally  loading 
themselves  down  with  the  canoes  and  baggage, 
and  beginning  their  dreary  march  to  the  sources 
of  the  Illinois.  The  Kankakee  was  reached,  and 
the  tired  men  were  glad  to  place  their  canoes 
upon  its  sluggish  waters,  drifting  down  through 
a  barren  and  desolate  country. 

Soon  the  stream  widened  into  a  river,  and 
more  interesting  scenes  began  to  present  them- 
selves. Broad  prairies  stretched  out  on  either 
side  with  evident  signs  of  animal  life.  Buffalo, 
wolves,  deer,  cranes  and  pelicans,  wild  swans  and 
turkeys,  appeared  from  time  to  time,  and  Pis- 
karet  found  ample  opportunity  to  display  that 
mastery  in  marksmanship  which  had  made 
[243] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

him  invaluable  to  the  expedition  ever  since 
Green  Bay  had  been  left  behind  them. 

A  few  leagues  farther  was  the  valley  of  the 
Illinois.  On  the  left,  rising  high  and  sheer,  was 
a  cliff  covered  with  trees  which  afterward  came 
to  be  known  as  "  Starved  Rock  " ;  on  the  right 
lay  the  site  of  what  was  later  to  be  the  village 
of  Utica.  Four  days  more  and  Pimitoui,  now 
called  Peoria  Lake,  was  reached,  and  undoubted 
evidences  of  the  near  presence  of  an  Indian 
encampment  were  discovered. 

Robert  laid  his  plans  promptly.  The  canoes 
were  beached,  and  a  hasty  camp,  without  fires, 
was  pitched.  Guards  were  placed  about  the 
camp,  and  the  party  sought  much-needed  rest. 
Early  the  next  morning  the  eight  canoes  were 
again  pushed  from  the  shore,  and  without  warn- 
ing the  white  men,  with  muskets  in  their  hands, 
appeared  before  the  eighty  Illinois  wigwams. 
Robert  leaped  upon  the  shore,  quickly  followed 
by  the  others,  and  advanced  fearlessly  into  the 
centre  of  the  group  of  terrified  savages. 

When  the  Indians  found  that  no  immediate 
attack  was  contemplated,  two  of  the  chiefs 
came  forward,  holding  the  calumet  before  them. 
Robert  accepted  their  offers  of  friendship,  and 
when  the  party  was  seated  in  the  midst  of  their 
savage  hosts,  he  harangued  them. 

"  I  have  come,"  he  said,  "  to  protect  you 
[  244  ] 


against  your  enemies  and  to  teach  you  to  pray 
to  the  true  God.  As  for  the  Iroquois,  they  are 
subjects  of  the  Great  King,  and  are  therefore 
brethren  of  the  French  ;  but  should  they  begin 
a  war  and  invade  the  country  of  the  Illinois,  I 
will  stand  by  you,  and  give  you  guns,  and  fight 
in  your  defence,  if  you  will  permit  me  to  build 
a  fort  among  you  for  the  security  of  my  men. 
But  if  you  will  not  consent  to  my  plans,  then  I 
will  pass  on  to  the  Osages,  leaving  you  to  the 
mercy  of  the  Iroquois." 

Robert  touched  their  lifelong  jealousy  of  the 
Osages,  and  his  threat  produced  good  effect. 
Everything  he  asked  was  promised  to  him,  and 
feasts  and  dances  were  provided  for  his  enter- 
tainment. That  evening,  however,  unknown 
to  him,  Monso,  a  Mascoutin  chief,  arrived  at 
the  camp  with  gifts  for  the  Illinois.  A  secret 
conclave  of  the  chiefs  was  held,  at  which  Monso 
warned  them  against  Robert  and  his  offers  of 
friendship,  accusing  him  of  being  a  spy  and  a 
friend  of  the  Iroquois.  Robert's  plan,  he  de- 
clared, was  to  encourage  the  tribes  beyond  the 
Mississippi  to  combine  against  the  Illinois,  and 
he  urged  that  the  only  safety  for  his  friends  lay 
in  preventing  Robert  from  continuing  his  jour- 
ney. Having  confided  this  information,  Monso 
left  the  camp. 

On  the  following  morning  Robert  quickly 
[245  ] 


ROBERT   CAVELIER 

observed  that  a  change  had  come  over  the  atti- 
tude of  the  chiefs.  He  was  at  a  loss  to  under- 
stand it,  however,  until  Omawha,  one  of  the 
Indians  to  whom  he  had  given  a  present  the 
day  before,  secretly  told  him  what  had  taken 
place.  He  was  prepared,  therefore,  to  receive 
the  urgent  advice  of  the  chief,  Nicanope,  not 
to  proceed  further  down  the  Mississippi.  The 
river,  the  Indian  said,  was  filled  with  venomous 
serpents  and  alligators,  and  the  shores  were  peo- 
pled with  hostile  tribes ;  there  were  impassable 
rapids  and  whirlpools,  and  the  waters  finally 
emptied  into  a  bottomless  gulf. 

These  warnings  had  no  terror  for  Robert, 
but  to  his  men  they  were  full  of  ominous 
forebodings.  A  great  change  had  come  over 
the  party  since  they  had  left  Fort  Frontenac. 
Months  of  suffering  and  privation  had  de- 
stroyed their  morale  and  weakened  their  cour- 
age. A  few  remained  loyal,  but  the  majority 
felt  certain  that  they  were  advancing  to  their 
destruction. 

Robert  listened  until  Nicanope'  finished  his 
speech,  and  then  rose  with  great  dignity. 

"  I  thank  you  for  the  friendly  warning  which 
your  affection  has  impelled  you  to  utter,"  he 
said  quietly ;  "  but  the  greater  the  danger,  the 
greater  the  honour,  —  and  even  if  the  dangers 
you  picture  were  real,  Frenchmen  would  never 

[246] 


RESUMES    HIS    EXPLORATIONS 

flinch  from  them.  But,"  he  continued,  looking 
Nicanope  firmly  in  the  eye,  "  is  my  brother  not 
jealous  ?  Has  he  not  been  deluded  by  lies  ? 
We  were  not  asleep,  my  brother,  when  Monso 
came  to  tell  you,  under  cover  of  the  night,  that 
we  were  spies  of  the  Iroquois.  The  presents 
he  gave  you  that  you  might  believe  his  false- 
hoods are  at  this  moment  buried  in  the  earth 
under  this  lodge.  If  he  told  the  truth,  why  did 
he  skulk  away  in  the  dark  ?  Why  did  he  not 
show  himself  by  day?  Do  you  not  see  that 
when  we  first  came  among  you,  and  your  camp 
was  all  in  confusion,  we  could  have  killed  you 
without  needing  help  from  the  Iroquois.  And 
now,  as  I  am  speaking,  could  we  not  put  your 
old  men  to  death  while  your  young  warriors 
are  all  gone  away  to  hunt  ?  If  we  meant 
to  make  war  on  you,  we  should  need  no  help 
from  the  Iroquois,  who  have  so  often  felt  the 
force  of  our  arms.  Look  at  what  we  have 
brought  you.  It  is  not  weapons  to  destroy  you, 
but  merchandise  and  tools  for  your  good.  If 
you  still  harbour  evil  thoughts  of  us,  be  as  frank 
as  we  are,  and  speak  them  boldly.  Go  after 
this  impostor  Monso  and  bring  him  back,  that 
we  may  answer  him  face  to  face ;  for  he  never 
saw  either  us  or  the  Iroquois,  and  what  can 
he  know  of  the  plots  which  he  pretends  to 
reveal  ? " 

[247] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

Nicanope'  could  make  no  reply  to  Robert's 
statements,  and  with  a  sullen  gesture  he  com- 
manded the  feast  to  proceed,  at  the  conclusion 
of  which  the  Frenchmen  betook  themselves  to 
their  tents.  When  they  retired,  Robert  posted 
a  night  guard,  fearing  treachery  on  the  part  of 
his  hosts,  but  nothing  occurred  to  interrupt 
their  rest. 

In  the  morning  Robert  stepped  out  into  the 
cold  bracing  air,  full  of  plans  for  the  fort  which 
he  had  determined  to  build  here ;  but  he  was 
struck  by  the  unusual  quiet.  Of  the  six  guards 
whom  he  had  posted  not  one  remained.  The 
tales  they  had  just  heard  from  Nicanope'  proved 
the  last  straw  to  be  laid  upon  their  wavering 
loyalty ;  and  they  took  this  opportunity  to 
desert,  choosing  the  severities  of  the  unbroken 
forest's  snows  rather  than  the  terrors  of  the 
unknown  monsters  of  the  Mississippi.  Nothing 
could  have  happened  to  dishearten  Robert  more 
than  this,  for  he  had  picked  his  men  at  the  start 
as  those  in  whom  he  could  impose  implicit  con- 
fidence. If  these  six  would  leave  him,  he  could 
expect  nothing  better  from  those  who  now 
remained. 

This  episode,  as  was  always  the  case  when 
Robert  Cavelier  received  an  apparent  set-back, 
resulted  in  a  prompt  and  definite  decision.  He 
would  proceed  without  a  moment's  delay  to 

[248] 


build  his  projected  fort,  thus  removing  the 
remaining  members  of  his  party  from  disaffect- 
ing  influences,  and  placing  him  in  a  position 
to  protect  himself  against  possible  treachery. 
He  had  already  selected  the  site,  half  a  league 
below  the  camp  of  the  Illinois,  on  the  southern 
bank  of  the  river.  After  a  stern  address  to  his 
men  and  a  farewell  to  his  hosts,  Robert  led  the 
party  thither,  and  the  fortifications  were  at 
once  begun. 

This  was  Fort  Crevecceur,  the  first  civilised 
occupation  of  what  is  now  the  State  of  Illinois. 
The  name  "  Fort  Broken-heart "  seems  to  indi- 
cate despair  on  the  part  of  an  explorer;  but 
could  one  have  seen  the  indefatigable  energy 
with  which  he  entered  into  this  undertaking, 
he  would  realise  that  the  agony  of  that  name 
was  merely  reminiscent  of  the  Netherlands. 
Taught  by  bitter  experience  that  trust  could 
be  reposed  in  none  but  himself ;  fearful  even 
of  Tonty  and  the  faithful  Piskaret,  who  had 
never  shown  the  slightest  deviation  in  his  blind 
hero-worship  of  his  master  ;  torn  with  anxiety 
regarding  the  safety  of  the  "Griffon,"  upon 
whose  arrival  depended  his  financial  standing 
in  the  colony  ;  weakened  by  the  desertion  of 
a  part  of  his  men  ;  borne  down  by  the  loss 
of  the  woman  who  formed  the  bright  ideal 
which  took  him  beyond  the  mere  ambitions  of 

[249] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

an  adventurer,  —  Robert  Cavelier  stands  out 
upon  this  bleak  page  of  history  with  his  face 
still  looking  toward  his  goal,  and  with  firm 
conviction  in  his  heart  that  the  discovery  of 
the  great  river  waits  for  him  and  him  alone. 


[250] 


HE    FIRST    OF    MARCH 

came,  and  with  it  a  convic- 
tion that  another  ship  must 
be  built  in  which  to  descend 
the  Mississippi.  To  accom- 
plish this,  some  one  must 
return  to  Fort  Frontenac  to 
secure  anchors,  cables,  and  rigging ;  and  no  one 
but  Robert  could  undertake  the  journey.  Five 
hundred  leagues  lay  between  him  and  the  fort, 
to  be  covered  on  foot  or  in  canoe  through 
rivers  and  marshes  harbouring  five  Indian  na- 
tions besides  the  Iroquois,  who  had  been  driven 
to  cover  by  Robert's  expedition. 

Each  day's  provisions  were  dependent  upon 
the  success  of  Piskaret's  gun  ;  the  heroic  travel- 
ers slept  upon  the  ground,  from  which  the 
frost  and  snow  had  not  yet  departed ;  loaded 
down  with  baggage  and  canoes,  they  climbed 
rocks,  broke  through  thickets,  and  waded  waist- 
deep  in  the  chilling  waters,  their  clothes  freez- 
ing to  their  bodies  as  they  proceeded.  All 
[251  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

this  and  more  was  endured  by  Robert,  Piskaret, 
and  the  four  Frenchmen  who  volunteered  to 
accompany  him,  —  four  trusty  hearts  who  glad- 
dened Robert  by  giving  him  the  loyalty  which 
he  had  hoped  to  find  in  all.  Tonty  remained 
behind  with  the  other  members  of  the  party 
to  garrison  Fort  Crevecceur,  uncertain  whether 
treachery  or  fidelity  would  be  his  portion. 

At  St.  Joseph  Robert  met  La  Chapelle  and 
Leblanc,  whom  he  had  sent  forward  weeks  be- 
fore to  discover  some  news  of  the  "  Griffon," 
but  they  had  learned  nothing,  and  he  ordered 
them  to  continue  their  return  to  the  fort,  to 
reinforce  Tonty.  Heavy  rains  increased  the 
suffering  as  his  own  party  advanced ;  one  by 
one  the  men  fell  sick,  and  delays  were  made 
necessary  for  their  recovery ;  now  they  were 
tracked  by  hostile  tribes  who  were  evaded  only 
by  Robert's  strategy,  —  but  at  length  the  little 
party  arrived  at  Niagara.  Here  they  found 
some  traders  who  confirmed  Robert's  fears  that 
the  "  Griffon  "  was  lost,  and  also  gave  him  the 
further  intelligence  that  a  ship  from  France, 
bound  for  Quebec  and  laden  with  stores  be- 
longing to  his  associates  at  Fort  Frontenac, 
had  been  wrecked  and  lost  with  all  on  board. 
Truly  Robert  believed  that  Fate  had  taken 
up  the  curse  of  the  Jesuits  and  was  wreaking 
an  awful  vengeance ! 

[252] 


SATISFIES    HIS    AMBITIONS 

The  men  were  too  ill  to  proceed,  so  Robert 
left  them  at  Niagara  and  pushed  on  alone. 
The  worst  of  the  journey  was  behind  him  ;  and 
on  the  sixth  of  May,  sixty-five  days  after  leaving 
Fort  Crevecceur,  he  stood  before  the  familial- 
bastions  of  Fort  Frontenac.  La  Forest  met 
him  at  the  gate,  rilled  with  consternation  and 
surprise  ;  but  instead  of  leading  him  within  the 
fort,  he  motioned  him  to  follow  outside  the  walls 
until  they  were  safe  from  observation.  Then 
he  welcomed  his  chief  with  mingled  joy  and 
sorrow,  telling  Robert  that  he  had  been  re- 
ported dead,  and  that  the  creditors  of  the 
Associates  had  seized  the  seigniory.  La  Forest 
was  ready  to  aid  him,  but  Robert's  presence 
must  not  be  known. 

The  faithful  lieutenant  provided  a  place  in 
which  Robert  could  safely  await  the  prepara- 
tions for  the  return,  and  went  heartily  to  work 
getting  together  not  only  the  materials  re- 
quired, but  also  forming  another  company  to 
return  with  him.  Robert  inquired  eagerly 
regarding  the  arrival  of  Anne  and  her  father, 
but  La  Forest  could  tell  him  nothing.  As 
the  lieutenant  had  recently  been  in  Quebec 
and  had  seen  the  Governor,  Robert  accepted 
the  news  as  confirmation  of  his  worst  fears. 
Father  Jean  Cavelier  had  planned  well  when 
he  took  his  unexpected  guest  to  the  Hotel 
[253] 


Dieu,  where  her  name  was  unknown  except 
to  him. 

Three  days  after  Robert's  arrival  two  voya- 
geurs  came  to  Fort  Frontenac  with  a  letter 
addressed  to  him  from  Tonty.  Fortunately 
this  fell  into  the  hands  of  La  Forest,  who  de- 
livered it  to  Robert  and  shared  with  him  the 
disconcerting  news.  As  soon  as  Robert  had  left 
Fort  Crevecceur  nearly  all  of  Tonty's  men  had 
mutinied,  destroying  the  fort  and  throwing  into 
the  river  all  the  arms  and  provisions  which  they 
were  unable  to  carry  away.  Later  news  came 
to  La  Forest  that  these  men  had  joined  the 
original  deserters  at  Michilimackinac,  and  now, 
twenty  in  number,  were  awaiting  the  oppor- 
tunity to  murder  Robert  upon  his  return,  as 
the  surest  way  to  escape  punishment. 

As  La  Forest's  party  was  not  yet  ready  to 
start,  Robert  decided  to  meet  this  situation  at 
once ;  and  with  nine  companions  supplied  by 
the  lieutenant,  he  set  out  in  canoes,  intending 
to  surprise  his  would-be  assailants,  and  to  re- 
move them  from  the  path  of  his  return.  After 
passing  the  Bay  of  Quinte  Robert  disembarked 
and  awaited  developments. 

When  morning  broke,  two  canoes  were  seen 
approaching  without  suspicion,  one  far  in  ad- 
vance of  the  other.  As  the  first  one  drew  near, 
Robert's  party  suddenly  put  off  from  shore,  and 

[254] 


SATISFIES    HIS    AMBITIONS 

with  leveled  guns  commanded  the  deserters  to 
surrender.  So  unexpected  was  the  demand  that 
they  complied  without  a  struggle,  as  did  also 
those  in  the  second  canoe,  which  by  this  time 
had  approached  ;  but  another  canoe,  which  until 
now  had  not  been  noticed,  was  far  enough  in 
the  rear  to  profit  by  the  fate  of  the  others. 

After  securing  his  prisoners  Robert  pursued 
the  fugitives,  overtaking  them  after  they  had 
landed  and  were  attempting  to  make  their 
escape  by  land.  A  brief  but  fierce  fight  took 
place  on  shore,  during  which  two  of  the  de- 
serters were  killed  and  the  remaining  three 
taken  prisoners.  These,  with  their  companions, 
were  delivered  over  to  La  Forest,  who  placed 
them  in  custody  at  the  fort. 

At  length  the  new  expedition,  which  later 
circumstances  turned  into  a  relief  party  for 
Tonty,  was  ready  to  set  out,  and  at  Robert's 
request  La  Forest  went  with  it.  A  shorter 
route  was  taken,  and  they  reached  Michilimack- 
inac  by  the  river  Humber,  Lake  Simcoe,  the 
Severn,  the  Georgian  Bay  of  Lake  Huron, 
coasting  the  Manitoulin  Islands.  Impatient 
at  the  delay  occasioned  by  the  heavy  stores, 
Robert  left  La  Forest  at  this  point  to  follow 
more  slowly,  while  he  himself  advanced  rapidly 
with  twelve  men,  searching  for  evidences  of 
Tonty. 

[255] 


Up  the  St.  Joseph  again,  across  to  the  Kan- 
kakee,  down  to  the  great  town  of  the  Illinois, 
past  the  Rock  of  St.  Louis,  Robert  hastened 
on  his  quest.  Just  beyond  this  lay  a  plain 
which  had  recently  been  covered  with  Indian 
dwellings  ;  now  it  formed  a  scene  of  desolation 
and  death.  Ashes  alone  remained  to  show 
where  the  habitations  had  stood,  and  human 
skulls  grinned  from  the  charred  poles.  Wolves 
and  buzzards,  disturbed  by  the  approach  of 
Robert's  party,  fled  from  their  ghastly  repast, 
and  awaited  at  a  distance  an  opportunity  to 
resume.  To  Robert  these  were  certain  evi- 
dences of  the  work  of  the  Iroquois ;  but  what 
concerned  him  more  was  whether  or  not  Tonty 
and  his  few  remaining  followers  had  been  quar- 
tered here  and  thus  included  in  the  wholesale 
slaughter.  Carefully  he  examined  each  skull, 
but  to  his  infinite  relief  he  found  that  no  white 
man  was  among  the  victims.  - 

Again  the  party  pushed  forward,  —  down  the 
Illinois,  past  Peoria  Lake  to  the  site  of  Fort 
Crevecceur,  which  they  found,  as  reported, 
entirely  destroyed  by  the  deserters.  Robert 
remained  here  only  long  enough  to  examine 
the  destruction  of  his  hopes,  and  then  continued 
on  his  search.  Now  they  stole  cautiously  past 
camps  of  the  savage  warriors  who  had  so  re- 
cently tasted  blood  that  they  thirsted  for  more  ; 

[256] 


now  they  saw  before  them  the  half-burned 
bodies  of  women,  still  fastened  to  the  torture- 
stakes  ;  but  nowhere  could  be  found  any  traces 
of  Tonty  and  his  men. 

Still  down  the  Illinois  they  paddled.  At 
length  its  mouth  was  reached,  and  Robert's 
canoe  floated  upon  the  broad  surface  of  the 
Mississippi.  He  forgot  for  the  instant  the 
seriousness  of  his  present  errand.  The  obstacles 
were  behind  him,  and  the  path  cleared  to  drift 
down  upon  this  swift-flowing  current  to  the 
realisation  of  his  ambitions.  But  it  was  only 
for  the  instant.  This  was  no  time  to  indulge 
in  personal  ecstasy.  Tonty 's  life  might  be 
hanging  in  the  balance,  and  he  alone  could 
save  it. 

Turning  back,  he  found  a  tree  whose  trunk 
projected  far  out  over  the  water.  This  he 
stripped  of  its  bark  to  make  it  more  prominent, 
and  fastened  to  it  a  board  on  which  he  drew 
figures  of  his  party,  sitting  in  their  canoe,  bear- 
ing a  pipe  of  peace.  He  also  fastened  to  it  a 
letter  for  Tonty,  telling  him  that  he  had  re- 
turned to  the  deserted  Indian  village.  Then, 
with  never-ceasing  paddles,  they  returned  to  the 
scene  of  desolation  which  they  had  so  recently 
left  behind  them  :  back  to  the  Kankakee  and 
the  St.  Joseph,  until  the  divided  party  was 
again  united  at  Miami.  Here  Robert  and  La 
n  [257] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

Forest  worked  out  together  the  further  plans 
for  the  search  after  the  missing  Tonty. 

Robert  little  knew  that  he  himself  was  the 
indirect  cause  of  the  disaster  to  Fort  Crevecceur. 
La  Chapelle  and  Leblanc,  whom  he  met  at  St. 
Joseph,  promptly  obeyed  his  orders  and  returned 
to  Tonty.  On  their  arrival  they  told  their  al- 
ready dissatisfied  comrades  of  the  disasters  which 
had  befallen  Robert's  finances,  and  all  were  con- 
vinced that  this  meant  his  absolute  ruin  and  the 
loss  to  them  of  their  pay,  which  was  already  in 
arrears.  Taking  advantage  of  Tonty's  absence 
on  the  following  day,  therefore,  they  destroyed 
the  fort  and  its  contents,  leaving  the  message 
behind  them  for  their  returning  commander  to 
read,  "  Nous  sommes  tous  sauvages  ! " 

There  remained  nothing  for  Tonty  to  do  ex- 
cept to  send  word  to  Robert  of  what  had  oc- 
curred, to  retire  to  the  Illinois  village  near  by, 
and  to  await  Robert's  return.  But  he  did  not 
foresee  how  far  out  of  Robert's  path  he  was  to 
be  driven  by  the  terrific  onslaughts  which  the 
Iroquois  were  about  to  make  upon  their  rival 
tribes.  Unable  to  accomplish  their  desires  upon 
the  white  settlements  about  Quebec  because  of 
Robert's  prompt  opposition,  they  turned  their 
unsatisfied  hungering  for  human  prey  into  other 
channels.  The  Hurons,  the  Neutrals,  the  Eries, 
the  Andastes,  and  the  Algonquins  had  already 

[258] 


SATISFIES    HIS    AMBITIONS 

felt  their  savage  power,  and  their  successes  filled 
them  with  a  desire  to  exterminate  all  within 
their  reach.  In  this  they  received  no  little  en- 
couragement from  the  Dutch  and  English 
traders,  who  found  in  them  an  easy  tool  to  use 
against  their  French  rivals  in  the  fur-trade. 
The  Illinois  were  the  next  in  their  path,  and 
the  Iroquois  marked  them  for  victims.  Thus 
it  was  that  Tonty  and  his  few  remaining  men, 
not  long  after  their  arrival  in  the  Illinois  village, 
found  themselves  in  the  midst  of  a  ferocious 
attack.  Their  Indian  hosts  accused  them  of 
being  enemies  and  traitors,  and  of  having  inspired 
the  Iroquois  against  them.  Tonty  realised  his 
danger,  and  with  characteristic  boldness  he  cast 
aside  his  gun,  and  advanced  unarmed  to  meet 
the  approaching  Iroquois  hordes,  holding  out  a 
belt  of  wampum.  In  a  moment  he  was  in  their 
midst,  but  in  spite  of  his  attempt  to  make  him- 
self heard,  he  received  a  knife-stab  which  made 
him  reel.  Without  heeding  this,  however,  he 
pushed  forward,  and  at  last  a  chief,  recognising 
him  as  a  Frenchman,  commanded  a  cessation  of 
hostilities.  Tonty  declared  that  the  Illinois 
were  friends  of  the  French  and  under  the  pro- 
tection of  the  Great  King,  but  this  would 
hardly  have  accomplished  the  desired  result  had 
he  not  added  that  they  were  twelve  hundred 
strong,  reinforced  by  sixty  Frenchmen. 
[259] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

Having  failed  to  catch  the  Illinois  unawares, 
the  Iroquois  were  willing  to  postpone  the  day 
of  reckoning,  and  a  truce  was  established. 
Tonty  and  his  men  were  allowed  to  embark 
in  a  leaky  canoe,  and  they  attempted  to  ascend 
the  river.  They  managed  to  keep  afloat  for  a 
few  days,  but  were  finally  obliged  to  abandon 
their  effort,  and  to  set  out  on  foot  for  Lake  Mich- 
igan, aiming  for  Green  Bay.  Tonty  was  taken 
ill  and  a  delay  necessitated,  but  at  last  their  goal 
was  reached.  Some  friendly  Indians  received 
them  with  welcome  kindness,  and  provided 
for  them  in  their  village. 

Here  it  was,  five  months  later,  that  Robert 
at  last  found  his  devoted  friend.  Each  sup- 
posed the  other  dead,  and  the  reunion  was  so 
full  of  satisfaction  that  much  of  the  suffering 
was  forgotten.  Tonty  eagerly  entered  into 
Robert's  newly-made  plans  to  organise  the 
roving  tribes  into  a  formidable  force  with  which 
to  oppose  the  Iroquois  ;  but  before  undertaking 
this,  both  desired  to  complete  the  discovery  of 
the  Mississippi,  which  Robert  had  abandoned 
in  the  search  for  his  friend. 

This  time  Robert  knew  that  his  followers 
could  be  depended  upon,  for  every  man  had 
been  tried  as  by  fire.  Back  to  Michilimackinac 
they  went,  through  the  portage  to  Lake  Simcoe, 
and  on  over  the  route  which  was  now  familiar. 

[260] 


SATISFIES    HIS    AMBITIONS 

Miami  and  the  Chicago  River  were  behind 
them,  and  they  were  again  upon  the  Illinois. 
Down  this  they  floated,  past  the  destroyed  vil- 
lage, past  barren  forests  and  verdureless  plains, 
until,  on  the  sixth  of  February,  Robert  found 
himself  again  upon  the  Mississippi.  The  letter 
he  had  left  for  Tonty  had  been  torn  away  by 
the  elements,  but  the  board,  with  the  rough 
drawing  upon  it,  still  remained.  Robert  could 
afford  to  laugh  at  it  as  he  pointed  it  out  to 
Tonty,  for  a  part  of  his  quest  at  least  had  been 
successful. 

Forward  they  pushed  with  glad  hearts,  past 
the  mouth  of  the  Missouri,  which  churned  the 
clear  waters  into  mud,  gliding  by  a  town  of 
Tamaros  and  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio.  The 
wintry  air  became  warm  as  Spring  as  they 
reached  the  Arkansas'  country,  and  warmer 
still  as  the  great  town  of  the  Taensas  was  ap- 
proached. Still  farther  down  the  river,  and 
the  Natchez  village  was  before  them,  and  two 
leagues  below  were  the  Coroas,  Red  River,  the 
Dumas,  and  the  Quinipissas.  The  town  of 
Tangiboo  lay  behind  them,  and  they  approached 
their  journey's  end.  Down,  down,  down  they 
drifted,  the  clear,  fresh  water  changing  into  brine 
as  the  sea  came  nearer ;  and  at  last  the  frail 
canoes  ceased  in  their  wanderings,  resting  tran- 
quilly upon  the  great  bosom  of  the  Gulf  itself. 
[  261  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

Robert  and  Tonty  clasped  hands  in  silence. 
At  last,  at  last  had  come  to  him  the  realisation 
of  his  dreams.  His  sufferings,  his  privations,  his 
dangers  by  day  and  his  terrors  by  night,  —  all 
faded  away  into  the  supreme  joy  of  that 
moment.  He  had  kept  his  promise  to  his 
King,  to  himself,  and  to  his  beloved.  Where 
was  she  now,  from  whom  he  most  craved  those 
words  of  praise  and  thanksgiving  which  he 
knew  so  well  would  be  his  ? 

The  canoes  are  beached  upon  the  shore,  a 
little  above  the  mouth  of  the  river.  The  party 
disembarks  and  prepares  a  column,  upon  which 
are  inscribed  the  words,  "  Louis  le  Grand,  Roy 
de  France  et  de  Navarre,  regne ;  le  Neuvieme 
Avril,  1682."  The  company  is  mustered  under 
arms,  the  Te  Deum  is  sung,  and  with  a  volley 
of  musketry  and  loud  shouts  of  "Vive  le 
Roi "  Robert  raises  the  column.  Every  head 
is  uncovered,  and  Robert  proclaims  in  a  firm 
voice : 

"  In  the  name  of  the  most  high,  invincible, 
and  victorious  Prince,  Louis  the  Great,  by  the 
grace  of  God  King  of  France  and  of  Na- 
varre, Fourteenth  of  that  name,  I,  this  ninth 
day  of  April,  one  thousand  six  hundred  and 
eighty-two,  by  virtue  of  the  commission  of 
His  Majesty,  do  now  take  in  the  name  of 
His  Majesty  and  of  his  successors  to  the 

[262] 


Kngruvad  by  John  Anrirtw  <t  Sen 


THE  DISCOVERY  OF  THE  MISSISSIPPI 

"  In  the  name  of  Louis  the  Great,  I  do  now  take  possession  of  this 
great  river  of  the  Mississippi." 


SATISFIES    HIS    AMBITIONS 

Crown,  possession  of  this  great  river  of  the 
Mississippi  and  its  adjacent  lands,  hereby  pro- 
testing against  all  who  may  hereafter  undertake 
to  invade,  to  the  prejudice  of  the  rights  of  His 
Majesty." 


[263] 


HIS-GASSOGK 


HEN  ANNE  COUR- 
celle  threw  her  tired  body 
upon  the  bed  in  the  small 
room  at  the  Hotel  Dieu, 
whither  the  sisters  led  her, 
she  little  thought  how  long  a 
time  would  elapse  before  she 
again  went  forth.  The  fatigue  of  the  voyage, 
the  disappointment  at  not  finding  Robert  wait- 
ing *to  welcome  her,  and  the  excitement  of  her 
rude  reception,  all  combined  to  bring  on  a  re- 
lapse of  the  fever  from  which  she  had  hardly 
recovered  when  she  left  Versailles. 

The  heart  can  sustain  the  body  far  beyond  its 
own  strength  so  long  as  hope  buoys  it  up,  but 
when  that  hope  fades  away,  the  body  falls  of 
its  own  weight,  burying  the  heart  beneath  it. 
For  weeks  the  girl  lay  there,  again  hovering 
between  life  and  death,  her  mind  wandering 
far  beyond  the  narrow  limits  of  her  surround- 
ings. She  was  back  in  Versailles  once  more, 
now  with  her  father,  now  with  the  Princess 

[264  J 


PRIEST  THROWS  OFF  HIS  CASSOCK 

Palatine,   now    walking    with   Robert  in    the 
park. 

With  noble  effort  the  sisters  fought  for  her 
life,  and  at  last  they  won.  With  her  conva- 
lescence Anne  could  but  grow  to  love  these 
great-hearted  women,  whose  unselfish  devotion 
touched  her  deeply.  They  had  asked  no  ques- 
tions, either  of  her  or  of  Father  Jean  Cavelier, 
since  the  day  he  first  brought  her  to  them.  She 
needed  their  services,  and  that  was  claim  enough. 

Where  man  and  woman  share  the  same  la- 
bours, it  is  ever  the  woman  who  remains  the 
truer  to  her  faith.  To  man  comes  that  inborn 
ambition  which,  stifle  it  as  he  will,  always  tem- 
pers his  actions  ;  to  woman,  the  doing  of  the 
deed  well  is  its  own  reward.  Look  where  you 
will  throughout  the  world's  history  of  noble 
work,  and  you  will  find  the  woman's  share  but 
briefly  written.  The  archives  contain  the  name 
and  record  of  nearly  every  martyr  among  the 
priests  of  the  missions  of  New  France,  but 
naught  save  tradition  recalls  even  the  deeds  of 
these  heroic  hospital  nuns  of  Quebec. 

There  were  no  trained  physicians  in  New 
France,  and  upon  these  women  and  their  sis- 
ters in  Montreal  fell  the  burden  of  caring  for 
the  sick  and  the  wounded.  Hardly  a  ship 
arrived  at  Quebec  from  France  without  bring- 
ing with  it  some  form  of  infectious  disease. 
[265] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

Sometimes  it  was  small-pox,  sometimes  it  was 
leprosy,  —  it  mattered  not  what :  the  sisters  at 
the  Hotel  Dieu  accepted  their  responsibilities. 
They  might  die,  but  they  never  complained. 
Jogues,  Lalemant,  and  Brebceuf  and  the  others 
will  live  throughout  the  ages  with  their  mem- 
ory lighted  by  the  glare  of  the  stake,  with  each 
contortion  carefully  recorded,  while  these  faith- 
ful nuns,  whose  courage  and  whose  martyrdom 
were  no  less  sublime,  and  whose  work  was  freed 
from  the  dishonour  of  political  and  spiritual  strife, 
sink  into  oblivion  without  even  a  record  of  their 
names. 

When  Anne  was  able  to  sit  up  for  a  few 
moments,  the  sisters  moved  her  chair  to  the 
window,  that  her  eyes  might  have  new  scenes 
to  relieve  the  monotony.  Again  she  gazed 
upon  the  broad  surface  of  the  St.  Lawrence 
and  the  St.  Charles,  again  she  saw  the  tree- 
tops  of  the  forests,  again  her  eye  stretched  out 
toward  the  west,  —  and  the  memory  of  those 
other  days,  when  she  and  Robert  had  stood 
together  on  the  summit  of  the  Rock,  came 
back  to  her  with  a  dull  weight  of  pain.  Just 
outside  the  window  the  sisters  showed  her  the 
great  tree  beneath  which,  forty  years  before, 
Mother  Marie  of  the  Incarnation  first  in- 
structed the  Indian  children  in  spiritual  truths. 
Then  her  gaze  returned  to  the  narrow  compass 

[266] 


PRIEST  THROWS  OFF  HIS  CASSOCK 

of  the  room,  and  her  heart  was  filled  with  utter 
loneliness. 

She  was  sitting  thus  one  morning  when  the 
Mother  Superior  entered  the  room.  Anne  at 
once  strove  to  banish  her  sadness,  for  this  seemed 
a  poor  return  for  all  the  kindness  she  had  received. 
She  therefore  greeted  the  mother  with  a  weak 
little  smile,  and  held  out  her  hand  affectionately. 

"  You  are  feeling  better  to-day,  my  daughter  ?" 
queried  the  Mother  Superior. 

"  Yes,  mother  ;  how  could  I  do  aught  but 
gain  when  you  all  bestow  upon  me  such  love 
and  care  ? " 

"  I  rejoice  indeed,  my  child,  for  we  have 
been  sore  distressed  about  you.  But  I  have 
come  this  morning  to  ask  if  you  feel  strong 
enough  to  receive  a  visitor.  Father  Cavelier 
is  below,  and  desires  to  see  you." 

"  Father  Cavelier  ! "  repeated  Anne,  a  shadow 
crossing  her  face.  She  put  her  hand  to  her 
head,  as  if  striving  to  recall  some  past  thought 
which  had  escaped  her.  She  had  forgotten 
him  entirely  until  now,  yet  it  was  he  who  had 
saved  her  from  the  humiliating  marriage  that 
seemed  inevitable,  and  it  was  he  who  had 
brought  her  to  this  sanctuary.  She  must  not 
be  ungrateful,  and  yet  — 

The  Mother  Superior  watched  her  closely, 
attributing  her  actions  to  her  weakness. 

[267] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

"  Father  Cavelier? "  Anne  repeated  the  name 
again,  as  if  in  question. 

"  Do  you  not  remember  him,  my  daughter  ? 
It  was  he  who  brought  you  to  us ;  and  not 
a  day  has  passed  without  a  visit  from  him  to 
inquire  regarding  your  condition." 

"  Yes  ;  I  recaU  him,"  Anne  replied  ;  "  but  I 
was  trying  to  remember  something  else  which 
has  escaped  me.  He  has  been  very  kind  to 
me,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  him." 

"  It  is  not  necessary  that  you  should  do  so 
unless  you  wish  it,"  said  the  mother,  kindly, 
somewhat  mystified  by  the  expression  upon 
the  girl's  face. 

"  But  I  do  wish  to  see  him,  mother,"  said 
Anne,  quickly,  quite  ashamed  of  her  hesitancy. 

"  Very  well ;  I  will  call  him." 

Father  Jean  Cavelier  did  not  delay  after 
once  receiving  the  Mother  Superior's  summons. 
He  entered  the  room  quietly,  greeting  Anne 
with  many  expressions  of  congratulation  up- 
on her  convalescence.  The  girl  could  but 
be  struck  by  the  appearance  of  the  priest 
beside  her.  His  resemblance  to  Robert  was 
strong  in  spite  of  the  difference  in  their  phy- 
sique ;  and  even  the  black  cassock,  which  hung 
so  closely  about  his  almost  emaciated  body, 
could  not  dissipate  it.  His  thin  face  was 
distinctly  spiritual  in  its  expression,  and  his 

[268] 


PRIEST  THROWS  OFF  HIS  CASSOCK 

voice  and  words  well  fitted  his  ecclesiastical 
vocation. 

"  I  have  been  waiting  long  for  this  moment, 
my  sister,"  said  Jean,  suavely. 

"  I  thank  you,  father ;  I  fear  I  have  been 
a  great  care  to  all  of  you.  But,  tell  me,  have 
you  heard  aught  of  Robert  ? " 

Jean  had  expected  this  question,  and  was 
fully  prepared  to  answer  it  without  hesitation. 
His  campaign  was  carefully  outlined  in  his 
mind,  and  a  part  of  it  was  to  encourage  Anne 
in  her  devotion  to  his  brother,  while  he  studied 
her  at  his  leisure. 

"  Not  yet,"  he  replied  kindly ;  "  but  that  does 
not  necessarily  warrant  apprehension.  My 
brother  had  no  definite  point  to  strike  in  his 
expedition,  and  the  Iroquois  are  crafty  foes." 

"  I  trust  that  you  are  right,  father ! "  said 
Anne,  glad  of  any  encouragement  which  might 
help  to  sustain  her  hope.  "  Here  in  this  little 
chamber  it  is  hard  indeed  to  believe  anything 
but  the  worst,  and  my  heart  so  longs  for  relief 
from  this  overpowering  dread." 

The  tears  welled  up  in  her  eyes  in  spite  of 
her  efforts  to  keep  them  back. 

"  Do  not  despair,  my  sister,"  replied  Jean, 

taking  her  hand   affectionately  in   his.     "We 

must  get  you  out  of  doors,  where  you  will  find 

more  to  relieve  your  mind  from  its  forebod- 

[269] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

ings ;  and  while  waiting  for  Robert's  return  I 
beg  of  you  to  accept  a  brother's  devotion  and 
protection." 

Anne  looked  at  him  steadily,  as  if  she  would 
read  in  his  face  a  denial  to  her  intuitive  distrust, 
but  Jean  Cavelier  was  too  consummate  an  actor 
to  allow  his  motives  to  lie  upon  the  surface, 
where  they  could  be  easily  discovered.  Anne 
feared  to  be  unjust  to  him,  yet  a  something  pre- 
vented her  from  accepting  his  words  without 
qualification.  But  he  was  the  one  to  whom  she 
ought  naturally  to  turn,  and  she  could  find  no 
tangible  reason  for  her  apprehensions. 

"  There  is  no  one  else  in  whom  I  can  place 
my  trust,  father,"  said  she  at  length,  "  unless  I 
throw  myself  upon  Governor  Frontenac's  friend- 
ship for  Robert.  That  is  what  I  should  have 
done,  had  not  we  met  so  unexpectedly." 

This  was  the  last  thing  which  Jean  Cavelier 
wished  to  have  happen,  and  he  hastened  to 
oppose  it.  He  could  easily  surmise  what  was 
in  the  girl's  thoughts,  and  he  realised  that  he 
must  win  her  confidence  or  his  entire  plan 
would  miscarry. 

"  Is  it  not  enough,  my  sister,  that  Robert 
wished  you  to  place  yourself  under  my  protec- 
tion ?  Governor  Frontenac,  as  you  know,  has 
no  women  in  his  household,  and  the  chateau 
would  hardly  be  the  place  for  you  to  stay. 
[270] 


PRIEST  THROWS  OFF  HIS  CASSOCK 

More  than  this,  Robert  felt  that  the  old  asso- 
ciations would  not  add  to  your  happiness,  were 
you  to  return  as  guest  where  once  you  had  been 
the  mistress." 

"  He  was  right,"  replied  Anne,  sadly.  "  I 
could  not  stand  it.  Every  turn  would  remind 
me  so  of  father.  I  could  not  stand  it ! " 

"  But  here,  with  the  sisters  whom  I  judge 
you  love,  you  are  as  safe  as  if  Robert  himself 
were  beside  you ;  and  you  are  absolutely  se- 
cluded from  the  outside  world,  which  would 
be  cruel  in  its  curiosity  concerning  you." 

"  It  is  best,  as  you  say,  but  this  waiting  is,  oh, 
so  hard !  " 

"  I  know  it  is,  my  sister ;  but  if  you  will  ac- 
cept my  friendship,  and  contain  yourself  in 
patience,  I  will  try  to  help  you  pass  the  time  as 
pleasantly  and  as  swiftly  as  possible  against  the 
day  of  Robert's  return,  which  must  now  be  near 
at  hand." 

"  There  is  naught  else  to  do,  is  there  ? "  an- 
swered Anne,  with  a  faint  smile.  "You  will 
have  to  accept  me  as  a  guest  whether  you  will 
or  no ! " 

"  A  sweet  privilege,  my  sister,"  replied  Jean, 
again  holding  her  hand  in  taking  his  leave,  —  "a 
sweet  privilege,  which  I  am  only  too  glad  to 
have  granted  to  me.  And  some  day,  before 
Robert's  return,  you  will  have  forgotten  the 
[271  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

distrust  with  which  my  brother's  idle  tales  have 
filled  you." 

Without  giving  Anne  an  opportunity  to 
reply,  Jean  left  the  room,  well  satisfied  with  his 
first  interview.  If  the  Iroquois  could  succeed 
in  delaying  Robert's  return,  he  could  ask  no 
more.  He  had  raised  a  doubt  in  Anne's  mind 
as  to  her  right  to  question  his  sincerity  when 
everything  seemed  to  support  him  in  the  posi- 
tion he  had  taken,  and  his  attitude  bespoke  a 
brother's  kindly  interest.  He  had  given  her  an 
unquestioned  argument  against  seeking  Fronte- 
nac,  which  he  knew  would  avail  far  more  be- 
cause of  the  sentiment  which  was  attached 
to  it.  And,  finally,  Anne  was  cloistered  here 
among  the  sisters,  unknown  to  all  save  him, 
where  none  but  he  could  see  her.  All  in  all, 
Father  Jean  Cavelier  had  reason  to  congratulate 
himself  upon  the  progress  of  his  little  affair 
thus  far. 

The  weeks  came  and  went,  but  news  of 
Robert  seemed  as  far  away  as  ever.  Jean 
continued  to  be  hopeful,  and  Anne  welcomed 
him  day  by  day,  if  for  no  other  pleasure  than 
to  hear  some  one  say  that  her  lover  was  alive 
and  must  soon  return.  The  invalid  was  able 
to  walk  out  in  the  garden  now,  and  the  sisters 
became  accustomed  to  the  sight  of  the  sallow 
priest  walking  up  and  down  the  paths  beside 

[272] 


PRIEST  THROWS   OFF  HIS  CASSOCK 

the  girl,  whose  beauty  returned  to  her  little  by 
little  as  her  recovery  became  more  complete. 

But  the  sisters  did  not  see,  nor  did  Anne 
herself  realise,  what  was  taking  place  in  Jean's 
heart.  From  boyhood  the  priest  had  possessed 
but  one  object  in  life,  and  that  was  self  grati- 
fication. His  parents  had  meant  nothing  to 
him  ;  he  had  always  hated  his  brother  ;  and  even 
in  taking  sacred  orders  he  had  thought  much 
more  of  the  personal  glory  which  he  felt  sure 
would  come  to  him  than  of  the  souls  he  might 
save  for  his  Maker.  He  had  scoffed  at  women, 
regarding  them  as  puppets  intended  simply  as 
instruments  or  hindrances  to  men  in  the  carry- 
ing out  of  grand  ideas.  Even  the  self  sacri- 
ficing sisters  of  the  Hotel  Dieu  meant  to  him 
no  more  than  willing  labourers  in  furthering  the 
ambitions  of  the  fathers,  to  whom  came  all  the 
credit  and  all  the  power. 

At  last,  however,  Father  Jean  Cavelier  ex- 
perienced a  sensation  which  was  not  at  all 
ecclesiastical.  This  girl,  whom  he  had  intended 
to  use  as  the  instrument  of  his  revenge  upon 
his  brother,  had  unconsciously  succeeded  in 
inspiring  in  his  cold,  selfish  heart  a  feeling 
much  akin  to  love.  When  the  knowledge  of 
this  first  came  to  Jean,  he  was  himself  genuinely 
surprised.  Then  he  was  pleased,  for  this  idea 
opened  up  another  channel  which  would  bring 
18  [  273  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

about  the  same  result  with  infinitely  greater 
pleasure  to  himself.  He  must  needs  renounce 
the  cloth,  to  be  sure,  but  he  had  never  taken 
his  clerical  profession  with  sufficient  serious- 
ness to  have  this  stand  as  an  objection. 

Even  after  his  change  of  plans,  however, 
Jean  continued  to  encourage  Anne  in  her 
belief  that  Robert  would  yet  return.  In  his 
own  mind  he  had  come  to  the  welcome  con- 
clusion that  Fate  or  the  Iroquois  had  freed  him 
from  his  brother's  presence  for  good  and  all ; 
and  this  was  the  general  opinion  in  the  colony. 
Still,  for  the  present  it  seemed  wise  to  keep  up 
the  illusion  while  he  ingratiated  himself  still 
further  into  Anne's  confidence. 

The  weeks  turned  into  months,  and  Anne 
was  quite  recovered  from  her  illness.  Waiting 
and  suspense  had  become  a  habit  by  this  time, 
but  her  faith  was  firm  and  unwavering.  Dur- 
ing her  weakness  she  needed  Jean's  reassurances, 
but  with  returning  strength  came  a  conviction 
which  required  no  support.  Still,  it  was  agree- 
able to  have  some  one  to  talk  with  about  Robert, 
and  Jean's  companionship  was  not  unwelcome. 

Safe  now  in  the  conviction  that  Robert  would 
not  return,  Jean  began  to  grow  impatient  at 
the  constancy  with  which  Anne  awaited  her 
absent  lover.  It  was  time  for  him  to  take  the 
other  side,  and  gradually  to  wean  her  from  her 
[274] 


PRIEST  THROWS  OFF  HIS  CASSOCK 

first  love,  that  she  might  accept  him  in  his 
brother's  stead.  On  this  afternoon,  therefore, 
while  walking  with  Anne  in  the  garden  of  the 
Hotel  Dieu,  he  was  less  sanguine  of  Robert's 
safety  than  usual. 

"  What  has  changed  your  ideas,  father  ? " 
asked  Anne,  anxiously.  "  Have  you  heard  news 
of  which  you  have  not  spoken  to  me  ? " 

"  Nay,  Anne,  no  news  has  come  ;  but  Robert's 
affairs  have  gone  ill  since  he  left  Quebec.  The 
seigniory  of  Fort  Frontenac  has  been  seized  by 
his  creditors." 

"  But  what  has  that  to  do  with  his  return  ? " 

"  This,  that  the  creditors  have  held  off,  hop- 
ing for  him  to  come  back,  but  now  they  are 
convinced  that  he  is  dead,  and  they  have  seized 
his  property  to  satisfy  their  claims." 

"  The  cowards  !     They  dared  not  wait ! " 

"  They  have  already  waited  long,  my  sister ; 
and  were  Robert  here  it  would  make  little  dif- 
ference. A  ship-load  of  goods  purchased  by 
Robert's  associates  was  wrecked  some  weeks 
ago,  and  if  Robert  himself  returns  to-morrow, 
he  will  be  arrested  and  imprisoned." 

"What  have  you  done  to  protect  his  hon- 
our ? "  the  girl  asked. 

"  There  has  been  and  is  nothing  which  I  could 
do,"  Jean  replied.     "  The  sums  involved  are  far 
too  great  for  me  to  negotiate." 
[275] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

"  But  is  it  not  strange,  if  Robert  is  really 
dead,  that  no  tidings  have  ever  come  to  Que- 
bec ?  Oh,  no  !  I  '11  not  believe  it !  Robert 
is  alive,  and  will  return." 

"  He  may  be  alive,"  answered  the  priest,  care- 
fully, "but  he  will  not  come  back.  News  of 
the  misfortune  here  would  surely  reach  his 
ears,  and  he  would  not  show  himself  in  Quebec 
with  the  certainty  of  imprisonment  staring  him 
in  the  face." 

"  Would  he  not  return  for  love  of  me  ? " 
demanded  the  girl,  warmly. 

"  Not  so  surely  as  he  would  remain  away  for 
love  of  liberty.  Brother  Robert  is  at  home  in 
the  forests  and  would  not  welcome  the  restraint 
of  four  stone  walls." 

Anne  was  bewildered  by  the  turn  which  the 
conversation  had  taken.  Jean's  attitude  was 
that  of  a  man  who  had  much  more  to  tell  than 
he  had  yet  divulged. 

"  You  are  keeping  something  from  me,  or 
else  you  are  not  speaking  the  truth,"  said  Anne, 
plainly,  looking  him  squarely  in  the  face. 

"  You  should  always  keep  yourself  in  a  state 
of  anger,  Anne  ;  it  becomes  you  mightily," 
replied  Jean,  irrelevantly,  but  with  undisguised 
admiration  of  the  figure  militant  before  him. 

Anne  stamped  her  foot  indignantly. 

"  Is  this  the  time  for  empty  compliments  ? " 
[276] 


she  cried.  "  Am  I  a  child,  that  you  should 
play  me  as  a  cat  may  play  a  mouse  ?  Tell 
me  all  you  have  to  say,  or  else  have  done  and 
leave  me  to  myself." 

"  There  is  but  one  thing  more  to  say,  and 
that  I  have  kept  from  you,  hoping  that  Robert 
would  return,  and  that  you  might  learn  it  from 
his  lips  instead  of  mine.  'Tis  not  a  pleasant 
duty  to  perform." 

"  What  is  it  ?  what  is  it  ? "  begged  Anne, 
beside  herself  with  apprehension,  and  sinking 
upon  a  bench  with  a  beseeching  appeal  in  her 
eyes. 

Jean  looked  at  her  long  and  sadly  before  he 
replied. 

"  I  wish  I  might  lessen  the  blow  in  some 
way,"  he  said  at  last ;  "  but  it  is  less  cruel  now 
to  speak  the  truth  than  to  keep  you  in  igno- 
rance of  it.  My  dear  girl,  Robert  is  not  worthy 
of  you." 

"  Is  this  the  remarkable  information  which 
you  have  to  convey  after  all  this  suspense  ? " 
asked  Anne,  her  voice  full  of  indignation. 

"  Nay ;  listen.  As  I  have  already  told  you, 
before  Robert  set  out  upon  this  expedition  we 
became  reconciled,  and  he  related  to  me  what 
had  been  his  experiences  here  and  in  France. 
Particularly  did  he  speak  of  his  plighted  troth 
to  you.  Then  he  told  me  that  since  his  return 
[277  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

to  Quebec  his  mind  had  changed,  and  that  he 
had  no  heart  for  this  marriage  which  he  had 
planned.  I  upbraided  him  for  his  weakness,  and 
he  admitted  his  fault,  but  avowed  himself  de- 
termined to  adhere  to  his  later  decision.  Just 
before  leaving  Quebec  he  asked  me  to  be  on  the 
watch  for  you  and  your  father,  and  when  you 
came  to  tell  you  in  his  name  what  he  had  told 
me,  begging  you  to  return  upon  the  same  ship. 
Of  course  he  did  not  anticipate  your  father's 
death  and  your  arrival  by  yourself,  or  perchance 
he  would  not  have  been  so  cruel." 

Jean  watched  the  girl  carefully  during  his 
narrative,  so  that  he  might  vary  it  to  suit  the 
occasion,  but  Anne's  demeanour  completely  de- 
ceived him.  She  was  absolutely  quiet  now, 
without  a  vestige  of  the  anger  which  had 
before  possessed  her,  and  her  face  was  deathly 
white.  The  priest  therefore  proceeded  without 
hesitation. 

"  He  further  said  that  he  should  keep  him- 
self informed  regarding  you,  and  that  if  you 
failed  to  respect  his  wish  that  you  return  to 
France,  he  would  not  come  back  to  Quebec. 
When  I  met  you  so  unexpectedly  the  day  of 
your  arrival,  I  had  not  the  heart  to  deliver  the 
unkind  message,  at  least  until  you  overcame 
the  fatigue  of  the  voyage.  And  then  came 
your  illness,  so  the  days  and  weeks  went  by, 
[278] 


PRIEST  THROWS  OFF  HIS  CASSOCK 

and  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  tell  you.  Now, 
however,  that  your  strength  has  fully  returned, 
and  you  are  wondering  why  Robert  does  not 
come  back  to  you,  I  must  speak  the  truth, 
cost  me  what  it  may.  But  you  have  already 
had  your  revenge  upon  him,  Anne,  for  he  has 
either  perished  among  the  savages  or  will  re- 
turn here  as  a  dishonoured  man.  Again  I  say, 
Robert  is  not  and  never  has  been  worthy  of 
you." 

"  What  right  have  you  to  say  this  to  me  ?  " 
asked  Anne,  in  a  low  tone,  too  stunned  to  know 
what  she  was  saying. 

"  The  right  of  a  man  who  loves  you,  Anne," 
answered  Jean,  quickly.  "Every  moment  I 
have  been  with  you,  these  past  months,  has 
shown  me  what  a  treasure  my  brother  has  cast 
aside,  and  has  made  me  eager  to  claim  it  as 
my  own.  I  love  you,  Anne,  with  an  affection 
which  has  never  before  been  given  to  any  but 
to  my  Maker." 

Anne  was  on  her  feet  now,  her  eyes  flashing 
forth  the  hidden  fires  of  indignation  and  scorn 
which  lay  beneath. 

"  You  love  me  !  "  she  cried,  —  "  you,  a  priest, 
dare  to  insult  me  and  your  Order  in  the  same 
breath  !  You  —  oh !  I  needed  this  last  outrage 
to  make  my  misery  complete  !  " 

"  Stop,  Anne !  you  shall  not  revile  me !  " 
[279] 


ROBERT    CAVEL1ER 

replied  Jean,  fiercely.  "Do  you  think  that 
because  my  heart  is  enshrouded  by  this  cas- 
sock, it  ceases  to  beat  ?  Do  you  think  a  priest 
an  image  of  clay,  without  human  sensibilities 
or  human  passions?  I  grant  you  that  these 
feelings  and  the  tenets  of  the  Church  are  mutu- 
ally opposed,  but  I  gladly  sacrifice  the  one  that 
I  may  indulge  the  other.  It  is  not  the  priest 
who  offers  himself  to  you ;  it  is  the  man ! " 

Anne's  contempt  and  humiliation  had  steadily 
increased  while  Jean  was  speaking,  and  by  the 
time  he  finished  she  was  wrought  up  almost 
to  a  frenzy. 

"  It  is  the  man,  say  you,  Jean  Cavelier  ?  Let 
me  tell  you,  sir,  that,  little  as  there  is  of  the 
priest  concealed  beneath  those  vestments  of 
the  Church,  there  is  yet  less  of  manly  attri- 
butes. Love  you  ?  I  could  as  easily  love  a 
reptile  or  a  viper  as  you,  with  your  false  tongue 
and  traitorous  heart.  Get  you  gone,  sir,  and 
remember  that  I  believe  that  Robert  lives,  and 
that  he  will  return  to  answer  this  insult  which 
you  have  offered  to  him  and  to  the  woman  he 
loves.  Go,  and  spare  me  the  further  humilia- 
tion of  realising  that  I  have  allowed  you  to  be 
with  me  day  after  day  while  you  have  been 
planning  out  your  cowardly  plot.  Get  you 
gone,  sir,  I  say,  and  that  quickly ! " 

Jean  Cavelier  did  not  admire  Anne's  anger 
[280] 


PRIEST  THROWS  OFF  HIS  CASSOCK 

so  unreservedly  as  he  had  done  half  an  hour 
before.  His  last  interview  with  Robert  con- 
tained for  him  what  he  had  believed  to  be  the 
climax  of  chagrin ;  but  this  angry  girl,  strong 
in  her  insulted  womanhood,  represented  even 
a  deeper  degree  of  mortification. 

"Yes,  I  will  go,"  he  muttered  rather  than 
replied,  "  I  will  go ;  but  this  is  not  the  end. 
You  are  absolutely  in  my  power,  and  Jean 
Cavelier,  even  though  you  despise  him,  is  not 
a  man  to  be  so  lightly  dealt  with ! " 

Anne  did  not  answer,  but  turning  toward  the 
hospital  she  walked  with  unsteady  step  to  her 
room,  where  she  fastened  the  door  and  threw 
herself  upon  the  bed,  convulsed  in  an  agony  of 
tears. 

"Robert,  —  oh,  my  Robert!"  she  sobbed, 
"  where  are  you  now  ?  Have  I  not  endured 
enough  without  having  this  indignity  heaped 
upon  me  ?  Oh,  Robert,  come  back  to  me ! " 

The  sun  set,  and  twilight  deepened  into  dusk. 
The  stars  came  blinking  out  in  the  dark  heaven. 
Quiet  settled  over  all.  Slowly  Anne  roused 
herself  from  her  stupor  and  threw  aside  the 
shutter  of  the  window,  refreshed  by  the  cool 
air  which  rushed  upon  her.  Steadily  she  gazed 
out  into  the  darkness.  Through  the  solemn  still- 
ness there  came  to  her  a  voice  out  of  the  past. 
She  seemed  to  see  a  strong  man's  figure  before 
[281  ] 


ROBERT   CAVELIER 

her,  whose  devotion  rang  out  full  and  clear  with 
every  word : 

"  May  I  not  think  that  far  away  —  perhaps 
watching  the  same  star  —  you  too  are  thinking 
of  me,  and  wishing  for  my  safe  return  ? " 

"  Oh,  Robert ! "  Anne  stretched  out  her  arms 
toward  that  distant  star,  —  "oh,  Robert,  I  am 
thinking  of  you,  dear ;  and  God  knows  that  I 
wish  for  your  safe  return  1 " 


[282] 


HTH    THE    ALTERED 

condition  which  now  came 
over  the  daily  routine  of  her 
life,  Anne  was  forced  to  plan 
some  change  in  her  surround- 
ings ;  and  her  thoughts  nat- 
urally turned  to  Frontenac. 


tt 

Being  with  the  sisters  she  was  undoubtedly  safe 
from  further  persecution,  in  spite  of  Jean's 
threat,  but  in  a  measure  she  seemed  to  be  ac- 
cepting his  hospitality,  since  it  was  he  who  had 
brought  her  to  this  present  home.  She  could 
endure  this  thought  only  with  horror,  and  she 
hastened  to  send  word  to  the  Governor  regard- 
ing her  identity,  beseeching  his  advice  and  pro- 
tection. But  even  here  she  was  again  doomed 
to  disappointment,  for  Frontenac  was  absent  in 
Montreal  making  a  tour  of  the  colony,  and 
weeks  must  elapse  before  his  return. 

Anne  therefore  had  only  the  inevitable  to 
accept,  and  she  begged  the  Mother  Superior 
to  allow  her  to  become  one  of  them  while  she 

[283] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

remained  in  their  midst.  No  questions  were 
asked  concerning  the  abrupt  termination  of 
Father  Cavelier's  daily  calls.  Being  women, 
they  undoubtedly  wondered  at  it ;  being  sisters 
of  the  Hotel  Dieu,  they  appeared  not  to  notice 
it.  Anne  had  appealed  to  them  no  less  than 
they  themselves  had  won  a  place  in  her  heart ; 
and  they  gladly  welcomed  the  addition  to  their 
numbers. 

So  it  was  that  Mademoiselle  de  Courcelle, 
maid  of  honour  to  the  Princess  Palatine  in  the 
Old  World,  became  Sister  Anne  of  the  Hotel 
Dieu  in  the  New ;  and  as  time  wore  on,  she 
found  herself  much  happier  in  her  new  position 
than  she  had  ever  been  at  Versailles.  The  com- 
panionship of  those  quiet,  devoted  women  taught 
her  supreme  confidence  that  her  waiting  would 
not  be  in  vain,  and  her  daily  duties  relieved  the 
weary  strain  upon  her.  To  and  from  the  sick 
and  the  dying  she  passed,  rinding  relief  in  the 
fellowship  of  suffering,  and  hi  the  opportunity 
of  helping  others  to  bear  it  more  easily.  Fre- 
quently in  her  work  she  met  Father  Cavelier, 
but  no  one  would  have  known  that  he  was  not 
an  utter  stranger  to  her.  She  had  placed  her- 
self even  farther  from  him  than  if  she  had  taken 
shelter  in  the  Governor's  chateau,  for  she  was 
constantly  engaged  in  her  work,  and  thus  rarely 
alone. 

[  284] 


FOILED    BY    THE    SAVAGES 

But  Jean  Cavelier  had  not  forgotten  his  hu- 
miliation. Anne  represented  the  only  object 
whom,  during  his  whole  life,  he  had  even  thought 
he  loved ;  and  when  the  veil  was  torn  aside  so 
suddenly,  and  he  saw  the  disgust  and  loathing 
with  which  the  girl  regarded  him,  his  heart  re- 
ceived a  blow  for  the  first  time.  This  height- 
ened the  resentment  Jean  felt  toward  Anne 
because  of  his  injured  pride  and  self-esteem  ; 
and  he  pondered  long  over  the  next  step  to  be 
taken.  Robert  had  passed  beyond  his  reach, 
and  he  therefore  had  a  double  revenge  to  visit 
upon  the  head  of  the  unsuspecting  girl.  His 
Jesuit  companions  were  quite  content  that  their 
antagonist  had  removed  himself  from  their  path ; 
but  Jean  would  have  been  better  pleased  to  be 
the  instrument  of  his  misfortunes,  and  to  witness 
his  suffering  while  enduring  the  torture. 

The  bearing  of  Father  Cavelier,  however,  dur- 
ing this  trying  interval  was  perfection  itself ;  and 
even  Anne  was  deceived.  They  met,  sometimes 
daily,  always  as  priest  and  nun,  —  he  labouring 
with  the  penitent  for  his  soul,  she  with  the  pa- 
tient for  his  life.  Jean  could  but  admire  the 
self-control  and  unselfishness  of  the  girl  as  he 
met  her  thus  ;  Anne,  however,  could  not  recon- 
cile Jean's  apparent  sincerity  in  his  religious 
work  with  the  episode  in  the  garden  of  the 
Hotel  Dieu,  which  she  could  not  efface  from 
[285  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

her  memory,  try  as  she  would.  It  was  a  strange 
little  drama  being  enacted,  day  by  day,  but  the 
man  still  held  the  leading  role.  In  spite  of  her 
experiences,  Anne  could  only  believe  that  Jean's 
outburst  was  due  to  momentary  impulsiveness, 
and  that  he  himself  probably  deeply  regretted  it. 
Since  he  jnade  no  effort  to  force  himself  upon 
her  further,  it  was  easier  for  her  to  be  generous. 

Anne  was  happy  now,  but  her  work  never 
drove  from  her  heart  the  knowledge  that  she 
was  waiting  for  a  realisation  of  her  hopes. 
Each  day  must  bring  nearer  the  time  when 
Robert  would  return  to  her.  Still,  no  matter 
how  firmly  one  holds  a  belief,  when  the  moment 
of  realisation  finally  comes,  it  is  ever  in  the 
nature  of  a  surprise.  She  gave  a  sudden  start, 
therefore,  when  she  went  out  from  the  Hotel 
Dieu  one  morning,  and  found  a  rough-appear- 
ing soldier  waiting  to  speak  with  her  in  the 
garden. 

"  You  wished  to  see  me  ? "  she  asked,  giving 
no  evidence  of  the  excitement  under  which  she 
laboured. 

"  Yes,  mistress  ;  I  bring  you  a  message,  which 
must  be  delivered  in  private." 

The  man  motioned  mysteriously  toward  the 
farther  end  of  the  garden,  and  moved  slowly 
away  in  that  direction.  Anne  followed  him  as 
in  a  dream.  At  last  her  long  vigil  was  to  end, 

[286] 


FOILED    BY    THE    SAVAGES 

and  her  patience  was  to  receive  its  reward ! 
She  could  feel  this  intuitively.  No  word  was 
spoken  until  the  farther  limits  of  the  garden 
were  reached. 

"  You  have  come  to  me  with  a  message  from 
Master  Cavelier  ? "  Anne  could  endure  the 
suspense  no  longer. 

"  Yes,  mistress ;  he  is  even  now  just  beyond 
the  bastion  of  Fort  Frontenac,  and  he  would 
that  you  should  come  to  him  at  once." 

"  So  far  away  !  But  why  does  he  not  come 
to  Quebec  ? " 

"  He  cannot,  mistress  - 

"  Because  of  his  creditors,  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Partly  because  of  them,  and  partly  because 
he  has  been  wounded." 

"  Wounded  !  Robert  wounded  !  How  can 
I  get  to  him  ? " 

"  My  canoe,  in  which  I  came,  is  at  your  ser- 
vice, mistress." 

"  But 't  is  a  long  journey  to  Fort  Frontenac." 

"  'T  is  true,  mistress  ;  but  there  is  no  way  to 
reach  Master  Cavelier  other  than  to  trust  your- 
self to  me." 

Anne  knew  not  what  to  think.  Fort  Fronte- 
nac was  a  hundred  and  twenty  leagues  away, 
yet  if  Robert  lay  there  wounded,  delay  might 
prove  fatal  to  him.  As  it  was,  the  time  neces- 
sary for  the  journey  would  prove  irksome 

[287] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

enough.  Yet  the  thought  of  so  long  a  time  in 
the  company  of  this  man  alone,  whose  very  ap- 
pearance was  disquieting,  filled  her  with  alarm. 
Ah1  this  and  more  passed  rapidly  through  her 
mind  as  she  stood  there  ;  then  she  answered 
him  firmly,  with  determination  in  her  voice : 

"  I  will  go  with  you.  Await  me  half  an 
hour,  and  we  will  undertake  the  journey.  I 
may  trust  you  ?  " 

The  man  nodded  assent,  and  Anne  hastened 
to  the  Hotel  Dieu  to  gather  together  what  few 
things  she  might  need  during  her  absence,  and 
some  medicines  for  use  with  Robert.  In  less 
than  the  time  appointed  she  returned  to  the 
garden,  and  a  few  moments  later  the  canoe 
started  upon  its  journey,  with  its  bow  pointed 
toward  Montreal. 

Anne  had  made  her  decision  and  accepted 
the  situation  hastily,  but  now  there  was  no 
turning  back.  As  she  sat  in  the  canoe  facing 
the  man  paddling  in  the  stern,  she  found  ample 
opportunity  to  study  him.  His  face  was  not  a 
hard  one,  after  all,  though  unquestionably  weak. 
He  was  roughly  clad,  but  this  was  natural 
enough  after  all  these  months  of  forest  life. 
And  he  had  been  with  Robert !  That  was  a 
sufficient  claim  upon  her  confidence.  Surely 
her  lover  would  send  no  one  to  her  in  whom 
he  himself  did  not  have  perfect  trust. 

[288  ] 


FOILED    BY    THE    SAVAGES 

"  Is  Master  Cavelier  sorely  wounded  ?  "  she 
asked  at  length,  breaking  the  silence. 

"  Yes,  mistress ;  but  not  mortally,  if  he  receive 
prompt  care." 

"  How  came  he  to  this  spot  you  mention  ? " 

"  His  men  bore  him  thither  on  a  litter." 

"  You  are  one  of  his  men  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mistress  ;  I  have  been  with  him  ever 
since  he  left  Quebec." 

"  What  has  so  delayed  him  in  his  return  ?  " 

"First  of  all,  the  Iroquois  led  him  far  into 
the  forest,  and  hi  returning  he  passed  through 
many  disasters,  until  we  feared  never  to  see 
Quebec  again." 

"  Has  he  been  ill  long  ? " 

Anne's  questions  came  fast,  as  she  strove  to 
understand  the  situation. 

"  A  month  and  over,  mistress ;  't  is  an  old 
wound,  received  many  months  ago.  A  few 
weeks  since  it  broke  out  afresh,  and  has  near 
carried  him  off." 

Anne  relapsed  into  silence.  Anxiety  re- 
placed the  excitement,  and  she  feared  Robert 
might  be  more  seriously  ill  than  the  messenger 
would  admit.  Surely,  after  all  these  years,  had 
his  strength  permitted,  he  would  have  sent  her 
some  written  word  or  token. 

The  days  passed  uneventfully.  Anne's  guide 
proved  courteous  and  respectful,  and  answered 
19  [  289  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

her  questions  in  so  straightforward  a  manner 
that  her  doubts  vanished,  and  she  forgot  every- 
thing except  that  each  moment  took  her  nearer 
to  her  lover. 

At  last,  after  thirty  weary  days,  the  stone 
bastions  of  Fort  Frontenac  loomed  up  before 
them,  and  Anne's  heart  gave  a  great  leap  of 
joy.  Yet  what  might  not  have  occurred  dur- 
ing the  time  which  had  elapsed  since  the  mes- 
senger left  Robert's  side ! 

"  Is  he  in  the  fort  ? "  asked  Anne. 

"  Nay ;  just  beyond,  in  a  shelter  which  his 
men  built  before  he  went  away." 

They  beached  the  canoe  just  below  the  fort, 
and  continued  on  foot  until  the  stone  walls  be- 
hind them  faded  from  their  sight,  out  beyond 
the  clearing,  into  the  light  underbrush  that  had 
been  left  in  felling  the  great  trees  which  had 
been  required  in  the  construction  of  the  fort. 
At  last  a  small  hut  became  visible,  evidently 
built  to  shelter  the  woodsmen  when  heavy 
rain  or  snow  overtook  them  at  their  work, 
but  long  unused  since  the  completion  of  the 
fort. 

"  He  is  in  there,"  said  the  man,  pointing  it 
out  to  Anne,  and  coming  to  a  standstill. 

"  Are  you  not  going  there  with  me  ? "  asked 
Anne,  unable  to  free  her  mind  from  its  earlier 
apprehensions. 

[290] 


FOILED    BY    THE    SAVAGES 

"  Nay,  mistress  ;  my  orders  are  to  allow  you 
to  enter  there  alone." 

The  girl  hesitated  a  moment  and  then  started 
forward,  for  the  agony  of  suspense  was  harder 
to  endure  than  the  momentary  suspicions,  while 
the  messenger  disappeared  in  the  woods.  The 
short  distance  which  remained  was  soon  cov- 
ered, and  Anne  paused  before  the  half-open  door, 
her  hand  upon  her  bursting  heart.  Then  she 
pushed  the  door  open  and  quietly  entered. 

"  Robert,  —  oh,  Robert  !  "  she  called  softly. 

The  door  closed  behind  her,  and  the  heavy 
bar  fell  into  place.  Anne  started  apprehen- 
sively. 

"  Good-morning,  Mistress  Anne  ! " 

It  was  the  suave  voice  of  Jean  Cavelier  which 
addressed  her. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  Where  is  Robert  ?  " 
gasped  Anne,  her  voice  almost  failing  her. 

"  Where  is  Robert,  ask  you,  fair  mistress  ? 
Surely  I  am  not  my  brother's  keeper.  And 
what  does  this  mean  ?  Your  face  tells  me  that 
you  have  already  answered  that  question  for 
yourself.  You  have  fallen  very  gracefully  into 
the  trap,  and  it  is  my  turn  now.  I  trust  your 
journey  from  Quebec  was  not  too  great  an 
effort?" 

"  You  coward  ! "  Anne's  voice  had  returned 
to  her,  but  she  drew  back,  leaning  against  the 

[291  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

wooden  logs  of  the  hut,  grateful  for  the  support 
they  gave  her. 

"  Have  your  say,  sweetheart,"  replied  Jean, 
tauntingly  ;  "  it  will  avail  you  naught.  I  have 
a  score  to  pay  which  has  waited  long  for  settle- 
ment, but  now  I  feel  secure  that  payment  will 
be  made.  Your  precious  Robert  has  seen  fit, 
on  every  possible  occasion,  to  insult  and  revile 
me ;  and  you  yourself,  with  that  same  fair 
mouth  which  I  shall  soon  cover  with  caresses, 
have  scorned  the  honest  love  which  I  offered  to 
you.  It  is  my  turn  now,  Anne,  and  here  where 
no  living  soul  can  come  to  interrupt  our  ex- 
change of  mutual  devotion,  I  intend  to  make 
the  most  of  it." 

Anne  shuddered  and  tried  to  draw  back  still 
farther  from  him ;  but  Jean  made  no  attempt 
to  approach  her. 

"  Before  you  tell  me  of  your  affection,"  he 
continued  insultingly,  "  I  have  something  else 
to  say  to  you,  and  you  shall  hear  it  now.  My 
brother  Robert  has  been  a  thorn  in  my  flesh 
ever  since  he  was  a  child.  Our  mother  gave  to 
him,  while  she  lived,  a  love  which  was  never 
once  bestowed  on  me.  Our  father,  had  I  not 
offset  it  with  imagined  tales  of  Robert's  mis- 
conduct, would  have  cast  me  off  in  Robert's 
favour.  When  once  I  succeeded  in  placing  him 
in  the  House  of  the  Novices  at  Paris,  however, 

[292  ] 


FOILED    BY    THE    SAVAGES 

I  had  no  further  fears,  as  I  supposed  that  he 
was  buried  forever.  By  a  humiliating  trick, 
however,  the  boy  escaped  the  snare  which  had 
been  set  for  him,  and  disappeared  I  knew  not 
where.  I  sought  him  long  but  unavailingly, 
until  at  length,  quite  by  accident,  I  found  him 
at  Quebec,  grown  to  man's  estate  and  holding 
an  important  position  in  the  colony.  The  child 
whom  I  had  sought  to  remove  from  the  path  of 
mine  own  ambitions  had  outstripped  me  in  the 
race  ! 

"  Then  he  went  to  France,  and  I  sent  mes- 
sages to  Paris  which  should  have  brought  about 
his  ruin.  Why  they  did  not,  the  Devil  alone 
knows ;  but  he  returned  loaded  with  honours 
and  privileges,  assuming  a  still  higher  post  at 
Quebec.  He  seemed  a  favourite  of  the  fates, 
while  I,  in  whom  ambition  is  stronger  than  the 
love  of  life  itself,  plodded  along  in  the  same 
monotonous  paths  which  lead  not  to  that  glory 
which  I  believed  would  come." 

Anne  was  interested  in  spite  of  her  fear. 
The  priest's  words  explained  much  that  had  not 
been  understood  either  by  Robert  or  herself. 
But  Jean  had  not  yet  reached  the  end  of  his 
narrative. 

"  Then  he  was  sent  against  the  Indians, 
which  meant  the  ruin  of  his  seigniory.  This 
was  the  first  sign  I  perceived  that  his  star  might 

[  293  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

be  dimmed.  Then  his  return  was  delayed,  and 
his  death  became  assured.  This  placed  you  in 
my  power,  and  at  last  I  saw  the  opportunity  to 
gratify  my  lifelong  desire  for  revenge  upon  him 
who  had  so  incurred  my  hatred.  You  were  to 
be  sacrificed  to  gratify  that  desire. 

"  And  then,  fool  that  I  was,  I  grew  to  love 
you.  For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  felt  an  af- 
fection for  some  one  other  than  myself,  and  so 
great  was  my  devotion  that  I  was  willing  to  sac- 
rifice my  chosen  calling  to  it.  But  you  scorned 
that  love,  and  reviled  me  even  as  Robert  had 
done.  This  was  the  last  straw,  Anne,  and  you 
yourself  are  responsible  for  the  result.  I  am  a 
priest,  but  my  heart  beats  as  strong  as  Robert's, 
and  the  same  hot  blood  runs  in  our  veins.  The 
memory  of  your  face  that  day,  and  the  contempt 
and  disgust  which  I  saw  written  upon  it,  will 
never  leave  me  ;  but  now  I  mean  to  have  my 
satisfaction.  You  shall  love  me  now,  Anne 
Courcelle,  whether  you  will  or  no.  You  may 
have  one  choice.  I  know  that  you  will  keep  a 
promise.  Tell  me  that  you  will  be  my  wife,  or, 
by  Heaven,  I  will  have  you  without  the  Church  ! 
Which  shall  it  be?" 

Anne  gazed  at  him  long  without  replying. 
She  realised  his  power,  and  that  all  hope  of 
escape  was  vain.  Jean  took  a  step  toward  her, 
but  she  held  up  her  hand  commandingly. 

[294] 


FOILED    BY    THE    SAVAGES 

"  Stop,  Jean  Cavelier,  —  stop  where  you  are ! 
You  have  planned  well,  and  your  cunning  does 
you  credit.  I  am  in  your  power,  as  you  say, 
and  I  can  quite  understand  that  one  who  in  the 
past  has  regarded  not  the  ties  of  son  or  brother, 
and  who  has  disgraced  the  cloth  he  wears,  will 
not  hesitate  to  take  advantage  of  my  helpless- 
ness. Your  narrative  needs  but  this  ending  to 
make  it  complete  in  its  cowardice  and  degrada- 
tion. You  ask  my  answer  ?  It  is  this.  My  heart 
belongs  to  that  brother  whose  relationship  you 
profane  ;  my  soul  belongs  to  God.  These  two 
are  beyond  your  reach.  My  body  will  be  in 
your  power  after  life  has  left  it, — not  before. 
I  despise  you  ;  I  loathe  you.  I  marvel  that  so 
miserable  a  creature  can  bear  semblance  to  a 
man ! " 

Anne  was  leaning  against  the  hut  no  longer, 
but  stood  erect  and  strong,  facing  Jean  with 
fearless  eye,  contempt  and  scorn  expressed  in 
every  feature.  Jean  hesitated  but  a  moment, 
and  then  crossed  to  her  side,  where  he  quickly 
pinioned  her  arms  with  his  stronger  ones,  and 
covered  her  face  with  kisses. 

"  So  be  it,  my  beloved,"  he  cried  coarsely ; 
"  I  accept  your  answer  and  yourself,  even  with- 
out the  affection  which  I  once  hoped  might  be 
mine.  Are  my  caresses  less  sweet  than  Rob- 

[295] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

ert's  ?  Does  it  not  seem  good  again  to  feel  a 
man's  strong  arms  about  you  ? " 

Anne  struggled  in  vain.  The  priest's  grip 
was  like  iron. 

"  O  Robert !  O  God  !  "  cried  the  girl,  in  des- 
peration, "  to  you,  my  beloved  on  earth  and  in 
Heaven,  I  commend  myself !  " 

Back  and  forth  in  the  restricted  space  the 
girl  struggled  as  for  her  life,  striving  to  escape 
Jean's  hateful  caresses.  As  the  two  came  in 
front  of  the  small  window  of  the  hut,  Jean  ut- 
tered a  cry,  and  suddenly  released  his  victim 
from  his  grasp.  Amazed  by  this  unexpected 
respite,  Anne  was  surprised  to  see  the  priest 
gazing  stealthily  out  into  the  forest  with  a  look 
of  horror  upon  his  face.  Instinctively  she 
rushed  to  the  door  and  tried  to  lift  the  heavy 
bar  which  held  it,  little  caring  what  had  caused 
the  interruption  so  long  as  she  was  freed  from 
Jean's  grasp.  Before  she  succeeded,  however, 
the  priest  pushed  her  aside ;  but  she  could  see 
that  he  had  no  further  thought  of  her. 

"  Fool !  "  he  cried  ;  "  do  you  court  instant 
death  for  us  both  ? " 

"  Death  ?  "  Anne  repeated  mechanically. 

"  Yes,  death  !  Did  you  not  see  those  Iro- 
quois  steal  past  in  the  woods  ?  They  are  in 
war-dress,  and  that  means  an  attack  on  the 

[296] 


FOILED    BY    THE    SAVAGES 

settlement.  My  God  !  we  are  trapped !  We 
shall  be  caught  between  the  savages  and  the 
settlers  !  What  shall  we  do  ?  " 

Anne  looked  at  Jean  in  disgust,  seeing  the 
expression  of  abject  fear  which  settled  upon  his 
ashen  face.  She  had  nothing  to  dread  from 
him  now.  His  teeth  chattered,  and  she  could 
see  his  knees  tremble  beneath  his  cassock.  The 
girl  took  a  hasty  survey  of  the  situation  from 
the  window.  Another  band  of  Indians  came 
into  sight,  and  she  watched  them  as  they  quietly 
stole  by  into  the  forest  in  the  direction  of  Mont- 
real. Then  she  turned  again  to  the  pitiable 
object  behind  her. 

"  A  coward  indeed  ! "  she  said,  rather  of  him 
than  to  him.  "  There  is  but  one  thing  to  do, 
and  that  is  to  reach  Fort  Frontenac  before  we 
are  discovered,  and  give  the  alarm.  This  is  evi- 
dently the  advance  of  the  attack,  and  they  are 
planning  to  surround  the  fort.  Quick,  we  have 
not  a  moment  to  lose  ! " 

Noiselessly  the  door  was  opened,  and  after 
making  sure  that  there  were  no  Indians  in  sight, 
Anne  started  for  the  fort.  Jean  followed  be- 
hind her  for  a  little  distance,  and  then  without 
a  word  broke  into  a  run  which  soon  left  her  far 
behind.  Even  in  this  desperate  plight  Anne 
could  not  resist  the  impulse  to  smile  at  the 
[297] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

sight  of  the  frightened  priest  scurrying  along 
with  his  thin  legs,  his  cassock  gathered  up 
about  his  waist.  A  few  moments  before  she 
had  stood  in  deadly  peril  from  him ;  now  he 
was  harmless  enough ! 


[298] 


CLAIMS-HIS-OWN 


OTH       JEAN      AND 

Anne  reached  the  fort  with- 
out being  observed,  and  as 
soon  as  La  Forest  learned 
the  identity  of  his  unex- 
pected visitors,  he  welcomed 
them  gladly.  There  was 
little  time  for  conversation,  as  La  Forest  knew 
what  this  threatened  attack  would  mean,  un- 
prepared and  ill-garrisoned  as  the  settlement 
was.  He  at  once  accepted  Anne's  conclusion 
that  the  savages  had  selected  the  fort  as  the 
first  object  of  their  attack,  and  he  hastened  to 
make  what  preparations  he  could  for  the  de- 
fence. This  done,  he  returned  to  the  living- 
room,  where  he  had  left  Anne  and  Father 
Cavelier. 

The  priest  was  still  at  the  window,  gazing 
across  the  clearing,  and  watching  for  further 
evidences  of  the  dreaded  foe.  He  had  but 
slightly  recovered  from  his  fright ;  his  face  was 
still  deathly  pale,  and  his  hands  twitched  con- 
[299] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

vulsively.  Anne  was  sitting  in  one  of  the  rude 
chairs,  too  exhausted  to  do  more  than  think, 
but  too  happy  in  her  escape  from  Jean  to  realise 
fully  the  seriousness  of  the  new  danger  which 
was  upon  them.  She  greeted  La  Forest  with 
a  faint  smile  when  he  entered,  and  Robert's 
lieutenant  at  once  drew  up  a  chair  beside  her. 

"  I  would  that  you  had  been  here  three  years 
since,  Mistress  Courcelle,  when  Master  Cavelier 
was  present  for  a  few  days,  seeking  news  of 
you." 

"  Robert  was  here ! "  exclaimed  Anne,  her 
cheeks  aglow  and  her  fatigue  forgotten.  "  Then 
he  is  alive  and  will  return  to  me ! " 

"  He  was  alive,  and  I  trust  he  is  now.  Surely 
no  harder  experiences  can  have  come  to  him 
than  he  had  already  passed  through  at  that 
time.  Robert  Cavelier  knows  no  obstacles, 
mistress,  and  naught  but  death  itself  can  keep 
him  from  coming  back  to  you." 

"  I  thank  you  for  those  words,"  replied  Anne, 
her  voice  choking.  "  I  have  believed  it  ever, 
but  until  now  I  have  received  no  sympathy  in 
my  conviction." 

•'  I  trust  that  I  may  be  able  to  preserve  you 
against  the  time  of  his  return,"  said  La  Forest, 
seriously,  his  thoughts  again  turning  upon  the 
Indians.  "  We  are  weakly  garrisoned  here, 
and  from  what  you  tell  me  I  judge  that  the 
[  300] 


Iroquois  will  make  a  determined  effort  to  de- 
stroy the  fort." 

"  Why  do  we  hear  nothing  from  them  ? " 
inquired  Anne. 

"  In  all  probability  they  will  wait  until  to- 
night, so  that  they  may  come  upon  us  without 
being  observed.  They  will  expect  to  catch  us 
unawares,  but  your  timely  warning  is  a  point  in 
our  favour." 

The  frugal  supper  was  served  as  soon  as  dusk 
began  to  fall,  and  then  each  member  of  the  house- 
hold was  posted  on  guard.  Just  before  La  Forest 
left  Anne  to  take  his  position  on  the  south  bas- 
tion, he  approached  her  for  a  last  word,  holding 
out  to  her  a  pistol  which  he  drew  from  his  belt. 

"  What  is  this  for  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Mistress  Courcelle,"  answered  La  Forest, 
solemnly,  "  I  am  doing  what  I  think  Robert 
Cavelier  would  wish  me  to  do.  Keep  that  pis- 
tol near  at  hand,  and  if  the  worst  comes,  do  not 
let  yourself  be  taken  alive.  You  understand  ? 
Good-bye ! " 

"  I  understand,"  said  Anne,  taking  the  out- 
stretched hand  gratefully,  "and  I  thank  you." 

The  threatening  storm  broke  soon  after  dark, 
and  the  thunder  and  lightning  added  to  the  dis- 
comfort of  the  men  on  guard.  The  rain  came 
down  in  torrents,  and  special  precautions  were 
necessary  to  keep  the  powder  from  becoming 
[301] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

useless.  Hour  after  hour  passed  by  with  no 
signs  of  the  savages.  At  length,  however,  in  a 
flash  of  lightning,  a  guard  upon  the  north  bas- 
tion discovered  the  forms  of  the  Indians  creep- 
ing stealthily  up  to  the  walls,  and  the  alarm 
was  given. 

La  Forest  at  once  massed  his  men  on  the 
north,  leaving  only  enough  to  guard  against 
a  counter  attack  from  the  other  directions. 
Quickly  the  cannon  was  swung  into  place,  and 
the  men  stood  with  muskets  primed  awaiting 
the  crisis.  It  was  grim  waiting  in  that  darkness, 
knowing  that  the  Iroquois,  with  all  their  cunning, 
were  upon  them,  yet  being  unable  to  see  even 
a  sign  of  the  presence  of  the  foe. 

"  Are  you  sure  that  you  saw  them,  Ragen- 
neau  ?  "  asked  La  Forest. 

The  answer  was  given  by  a  fiendish  yell, 
which  came  with  a  suddenness  that  chilled  the 
blood  even  of  the  most  hardened  soldier.  The 
Indians  had  massed,  and  were  attempting  to 
rush  the  stockade,  just  beyond  the  wall. 

"  Quick  !  touch  the  light  1 "  commanded  La 
Forest,  aiming  the  cannon  in  the  direction  from 
which  the  noise  came  ;  and  by  the  cries  which  an- 
swered the  discharge  he  knew  that  the  first  shot 
had  done  its  work  well. 

Silence  followed  this  sudden  outburst,  and 
the  garrison  eagerly  awaited  the  next  move  on 

[302] 


THE   PRIEST   THE    SUPPLIANT 

the  part  of  the  Indians.  The  rain  had  ceased, 
and  the  wind  was  rising. 

"  Thank  God  for  that !  "  said  La  Forest  to 
the  soldier  next  him  ;  "  there  is  a  full  moon  to- 
night, and  this  wind  will  blow  away  the  clouds 
so  that  we  may  watch  these  devils  at  their 
work." 

A  musket-shot  from  the  south  bastion  an- 
nounced that  the  scene  of  battle  had  been 
shifted,  and  the  lieutenant  quickly  transferred 
most  of  his  force  to  the  new  point  of  attack. 
A  slight  blaze  in  the  near  distance  attracted 
La  Forest's  attention. 

"  They  have  set  fire  to  the  grange,"  he  said, 
well  satisfied  ;  "  we  shall  not  need  to  wait  for 
the  moon." 

The  firing  was  intermittent,  and  the  Indians 
seemed  to  be  planning  some  new  method  of 
attack.  Soon,  however,  the  grange  broke  into 
flames,  and  in  the  glare  the  fiendish  crew  could 
be  clearly  seen,  looking  like  demons,  with  their 
faces  daubed  and  smeared  with  brilliant  colours, 
their  scalp-locks  streaming  in  the  wind,  and  their 
muskets  and  tomahawks  waving  wildly  in  the 
air. 

Suddenly  a  cry  was  heard  upon  the  south 
bastion,  which  the  soldiers  had  just  deserted, 
and  again  the  fierce  yell  was  heard. 

"  This  is  only  a  ruse ;  the  attack  is  on  the 
[303] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

south,"  cried  La  Forest,  hastening  back  amid  a 
fusillade  of  bullets  coming  in  both  directions. 

It  was  as  the  lieutenant  surmised.  The  main 
body  of  the  Iroquois  remained  in  their  original 
position,  but  they  had  sent  a  portion  of  their 
force  to  the  south,  and  had  set  fire  to  the 
grange  in  order  to  divert  the  garrison  from 
their  real  purpose. 

By  the  time  La  Forest  regained  his  position, 
six  of  his  men  had  fallen  and  the  stockade 
itself  was  carried  by  the  savages.  The  hideous 
forms  were  directly  beneath  the  walls  now,  and 
they  were  placing  ladders,  which  they  found 
outside,  against  the  bastion.  It  was  hand-to- 
hand  fighting  at  unequal  odds,  but  the  soldiers 
withstood  the  attack  with  the  desperation  which 
the  knowledge  that  no  mercy  will  be  given 
always  brings.  The  Indians  were  suffering 
heavy  losses,  but  the  proportion  was  against 
the  defenders.  Perhaps  fifty  of  the  five  hun- 
dred Indians  had  fallen  ;  out  of  the  twenty- 
eight  men  at  the  fort  twelve  were  dead  or  too 
badly  wounded  to  be  of  further  service. 

On  they  fought,  with  clubbed  muskets  now 
that  there  was  no  time  to  reload  ;  but  still 
the  Indians  advanced.  La  Forest  saw  that  it 
meant  a  complete  massacre  to  hold  the  position 
longer. 

"  Back,  men,  to  the  house ! "  he  cried  ;  and 
[304] 


THE   PRIEST  THE    SUPPLIANT 

together  they  fought  their  way  to  the  heavy 
door,  which  was  opened  to  receive  them  and 
then  quickly  closed  and  barred.  Here  they 
could  get  a  temporary  respite. 

"  How  many  of  us  are  left  ? "  asked  La  For- 
est, glancing  around  him.  Ten  only  remained. 

While  the  battle  was  waging  outside,  Anne 
anxiously  awaited  news  of  the  conflict,  remain- 
ing in  the  living-room  where  La  Forest  had 
left  her.  Jean  had  disappeared,  and  she  was 
alone.  As  the  firing  came  nearer  and  nearer, 
she  knew  that  the  Indians  were  gaining  the 
upper  hand ;  but  she  was  unprepared  for  the 
sudden  return  to  the  house,  and  at  first  sup- 
posed that  the  savages  had  gained  an  entrance. 
Firmly  grasping  the  pistol  which  La  Forest 
had  given  her,  she  drew  back  against  the  wall', 
awaiting  developments.  Suddenly  the  door  was 
flung  open,  and  La  Forest  entered  the  room. 

"  Ah  !  I  am  glad  that  naught  has  befallen 
you,"  she  exclaimed,  running  toward  him. 

"  It  is  going  badly,"  he  answered  gloomily. 
"  The  devils  have  forced  the  stockade  and 
driven  us  to  cover." 

"  How  long  can  we  hold  out  here  ? " 

"Perhaps  an  hour;  not  longer.      To  think 
that  you  should  have  come  to  me  for  protec- 
tion, and  that  I  am  unable  to  save  you  for  him 
whom  I  love  better  than  life  itself ! " 
20  [  305  ] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

Anne  placed  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  You  have  done  —  you  are  doing  all  in  your 
power  for  him,"  she  said  quietly,  "  and  I  thank 
you  for  it  in  his  name  as  well  as  in  my  own." 

La  Forest  took  her  hand  in  his,  powder- 
stained  as  it  was,  and  raised  it  to  his  lips. 

"  If  it  must  be  so,  I  will  die  beside  you.  I 
have  always  hoped  that  the  opportunity  might 
come  when  I  could  give  my  life  for  his,  but  per- 
haps it  will  serve  him  better  if  I  place  it  at  the 
service  of  the  woman  he  loves." 

In  the  meanwhile  the  savages  were  trying 
various  expedients  to  gain  an  entrance  to  the 
house.  The  stone  walls  were  impenetrable,  but 
they  attempted  to  force  the  doors  and  the  win- 
dows, and  burning  fagots  were  thrown  upon  the 
roof.  Suddenly  a  volley  of  musketry  sounded 
above  the  noise  of  the  battering-rams. 

"  What  was  that  ? "  cried  La  Forest,  spring- 
ing to  his  feet.  "  Have  the  men  gone  out 
again,  against  my  orders?" 

He  rushed  into  the  next  room,  where  the  sur- 
vivors were  gathered  together,  as  astonished  as 
himself  at  the  unexpected  sound.  The  batter- 
ing ceased,  and  the  yells  of  the  Indians  came 
clearly  through  the  walls.  Another  sound  of 
musketry,  and  the  savages  could  be  heard  in 
hasty  retreat. 

"  It  is  the  Carignan  regiment  from  Montreal ! " 
[306] 


THE  PRIEST   THE    SUPPLIANT 

cried  La  Forest,  joyfully,  while  the  men  hugged 
each  other  in  delirious  excitement  over  the 
unexpected  relief. 

"  Thank  God,  thank  God ! "  murmured  La 
Forest,  rushing  to  the  door,  and  throwing  it  wide 
open  to  welcome  his  saviours. 

The  little  company  was  seen  approaching, 
and  La  Forest  hastened  forward  to  greet  its 
leader,  who  was  in  advance  of  his  men.  The 
light  of  the  torch  fell  full  upon  his  face. 

"  La  Forest !  " 

"  Robert  Cavelier ! " 

The  voices  rang  out  loud  and  clear  as  the  two 
men  grasped  each  other's  hands,  while  the  rest 
of  the  survivors  gathered  around  them. 

"  You  have  timed  your  return  well,  Master 
Cavelier.  Not  only  do  we  rejoice  over  your 
own  safety,  but  you  have  rescued  us  from 
destruction." 

A  rustle  of  skirts  was  heard  behind  them,  and 
a  woman's  figure  glided  by,  straight  to  Robert's 
arms. 

"  Robert,  my  Robert !.  I  knew  that  you 
would  come  back  to  me ! " 

"  Anne,  my  beloved  !  —  here  at  Fort  Fronte- 
nac  ?  Can  I  believe  my  senses  !  —  After  all 
these  years,  —  my  beloved,  my  beloved  ! " 

The  others  drew  away  from  Robert  and  Anne, 
[307] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

recognising  the  meaning  of  this  reunion.  As 
they  did  so  some  one  tried  to  rush  by  them,  but 
La  Forest's  strong  arm  threw  him  back,  and  he 
fell  in  a  heap  at  Robert's  feet. 

"  Who  is  this  ?  "  asked  Robert,  peering  at  the 
figure  on  the  ground.  Anne  answered  the 
question. 

"  It  is  your  brother,  Robert,  who  decoyed  me 
here  to  force  me  to  marry  him.  He  probably 
did  not  care  to  face  you  after  all  he  has  said 
and  done." 

Robert  raised  the  priest  to  his  feet  and  held 
him  at  arm's  length.  The  pent-up  fury  of  a  life- 
time struggled  to  escape,  and  Jean  knew  well 
what  that  look  in  his  brother's  eyes  meant  for 
him. 

"  I  am  going  to  kill  you,  Jean,  do  you  under- 
stand ? "  said  Robert,  in  a  measured  tone,  the 
more  fearful  because  of  its  forced  restraint ;  "  I 
am  going  to  silence  your  lying  tongue  and  cark- 
ing  voice  forever.  If  you  remember  how  to  pray, 
make  your  peace  with  God  ! " 

He  flung  the  wretched  figure  to  the  ground, 
and  deliberately  drew  his  pistol  from  his  belt, 
glancing  at  its  priming.  Jean,  his  face  distorted 
with  fear,  dragged  himself  to  his  brother's  feet 
and  knelt  before  him,  holding  out  beseeching 
hands. 

[308] 


THE  PRIEST  THE    SUPPLIANT 

"Robert  —  my  brother  —  spare  my  life,  I 
pray  you  !  For  the  sake  of  our  mother,  who 
bore  us  both,  for  the  sake  of  God,  and  as  you 
yourself  hope  for  forgiveness,  do  not  murder 
me!" 

"  'T  will  be  no  murder,  wretch  ;  't  will  be  an 
execution.  I  care  not  for  your  prayers.  I  am 
going  to  kill  you,  —  now  !  " 

"  Robert ! " 

It  was  Anne  who  spoke.  She  was  very  pale 
as  she  stood  there  in  the  moonlight,  with  her 
hand  on  Robert's  pistol. 

"  Robert,  however  much  this  man  may  have 
sinned  against  you,  his  conduct  toward  me  has 
been  much  more  grievous.  Yet  I  ask  you, 
for  my  sake,  to  spare  his  life.  Let  him  go 
whither  he  will,  and  let  not  our  happiness  be 
stained  by  his  blood.  Will  you  do  this  for  my 
sake  ? " 

Robert  looked  long  at  the  groveling  figure 
before  him,  and  then  turned  to  Anne. 

"  For  your  sake  ?  "  He  repeated  her  words 
slowly  after  her,  —  "  for  your  sake  ?  Yes  ;  for 
your  sake  I  would  do  anything ! " 

Robert  folded  Anne  in  his  arms,  and  together 

they  watched  Jean  Cavelier  steal  off  into  the 

night.     Anne  felt  the  load  lifted  from  her  heart, 

and  she  looked  up  into  Robert's  face  with  a 

[309] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

smile   of  contentment  which  seemed  to  turn 
the  night  into  day. 

Perhaps  it  was  well  that  it  was  the  moon 
which  was  shining  upon  the  realisation  of  their 
hopes.  The  sunlight  would  have  been  too 
bright  a  glare  after  the  long  darkness. 


[310] 


EPILOGUE 


HE    SECRETS    OF    THE 

primeval  forest  had  been  un- 
folded, and  the  Great  West 
had  passed  from  the  unknown 
to  the  known.  The  banner 
»•  of  France  floated  proudly  in 
the  air  where  the  Sieur  de 
La  Salle  had  planted  it  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Mississippi  until  plucked  down  by  some  roving 
band  of  Indians,  who  feared  not  that  the  stern 
hand  of  Louis  the  Grand  would  reach  out  into 
the  wilderness  to  rebuke  their  sacrilege.  The 
explorer's  self-imposed  task  was  brought  to  a 
successful  completion,  and  those  eyes,  whose 
longing  to  gaze  upon  the  mythical  waters  had 
been  gratified,  were  now  content  to  look  with 
even  greater  satisfaction  into  the  face  of  the 
fair  maiden  before  him.  Happiness,  greatest  of 
blessings,  contentment,  serene  and  unalloyed, 
entered  into  the  hearts  of  both.  The  sacrifice 
was  ended,  and  the  reward  was  great. 
[311] 


ROBERT    CAVELIER 

Could  the  curtain  which  veils  the  future  have 
been  drawn  aside  at  that  moment  would  it  have 
destroyed  all  the  joy  that  the  present  contained  ? 
Could  those  eyes,  which  were  fastened  each  on 
the  dear  object  before  it,  have  peered  through 
the  mist,  they  would  have  seen  the  vain  struggle 
of  the  Jesuits  against  the  power  of  the  Iroquois, 
who  all  unknowingly  were  the  instruments  of 
Liberty  and  Enlightenment  against  Error  and 
Absolutism.  They  would  have  seen  the  recall 
of  Frontenac,  which  sounded  the  knell  of  the 
hope  of  France  to  hold  the  New  World  against 
the  growing  strength  of  England.  They  would 
have  seen  the  noble  labours  and  fearless  sacrifices 
of  these  untiring  ecclesiastical  pioneers  come  to 
naught  because  of  the  ignorance  and  bigotry 
and  fanaticism  which  held  in  check  and  over- 
powered those  finer  qualities  which  later  ac- 
complished so  much  of  good  in  other  fields. 
They  would  have  seen,  after  five  short  years  of 
perfect  happiness,  assassination  for  one  of  the 
two  standing  in  the  moonlight,  and  for  the 
other  a  life's  devotion  among  the  sisters  of 
the  Hotel  Dieu  at  Quebec. 

No  one  can  doubt  that  such  prescience  would 
have  been  accompanied  by  a  broadness  of 
nature  which  would  have  rejoiced  at  personal 
effacement  in  the  knowledge  that  his  work  had 

[312  ] 


EPILOGUE 

contributed  toward  the  grandeur  of  the  final 
result.  Such  a  character  as  that  of  Robert 
Cavelier  de  La  Salle  belongs  not  to  any  time 
or  age,  but  takes  its  place  among  those  most 
cherished  in  the  hearts  of  men. 


[313] 


ERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000110785     3 


